The Anchor Holds
by AmaranthineWhisper
Summary: Vegas creates a new understanding between Cal and Gillian. In the following months, Gillian increasingly becomes a part of the family. Chapter 20: The long-awaited wedding!
1. A True Friend

Gillian Foster hated Vegas.

She hated the noise. She hated the smog. She hated its flashy lights and cheap thrills. She hated the lies, the irresponsibility, and the lack of common decency within its borders.

But most of all, she hated the change it brought about in her partner. Cal was drawn in, too easily seduced by a former life. His past bubbled to the surface, threatening his judgment, his character, and the life he had worked to build—a life that she was very much a part of, and becoming more so with the passage of time.

She knew him inside and out. Gillian knew the Cal Lightman that the world would never see. She'd even be willing to bet that she knew him better than any person alive, including Emily. She could sense his mood with one glance, knew what motivated him, what he was passionate about, and could predict fairly accurately how he would respond to any given situation. He trusted her implicitly, unconditionally, and on occasion, let his guard down completely in her presence.

And as ridiculous as it sounded, Cal was a constant in her life. A reliable presence. Sure, Cal was disagreeable, impatient, and sometimes a complete ass, but she knew that beneath the surface was a warm heart, a loyal friend. She couldn't imagine a life without him in it.

And so, here she was, sitting on the edge of a hotel bed beside a very drunk Cal Lightman. He'd disappeared after losing one million dollars in roulette, and she had searched for nearly an hour before finding him slumped in a corner, sporting a bruised eye and cut to the head.

"Oi, Fosterrr," he slurred, grinningly stupidly as she came into view. "Oh Cal," she sighed, a mixture of relief, anger, and pity. She helped him up, swaying under his weight, and they ambled awkwardly to a waiting cab.

She took him to her room, not wanting him to be near any reminders of the night before. She knew that, very likely, there were empty bottles of scotch, discarded hands of cards, and perhaps even a stray piece of lingerie from his night with Poppy. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. They were most definitely staying away from that room.

By the time she'd gotten him settled into her bed, he was too far gone to protest. Which was probably a good thing, now that she considered it. She was loathe to be accused of "smothering" him again. Dipping a washcloth in cool water, she gently cleaned the cut on his head—running her fingers through his hair to check for any further damage. She brought the cloth down to the bruised area under his eye, letting it rest on the tender, broken skin. Cal grimaced, squeezing her hand, and she relented, releasing some of the pressure she had been putting on the cloth.

Moments later, Gillian felt the grip on her hand relax—he was finally asleep. She looked at his face in all of its raw vulnerability. There were no guards put up, no worries that creased his brow. He looked peaceful, almost childlike. Gillian leaned over, cupping his face in her hands, and planted a quiet kiss on his forehead. She couldn't help herself.

"Goodnight Cal," she whispered.

She changed into her favorite flannel pajamas, and climbed into the far side of the bed, completely exhausted.

It couldn't have been more than two hours before Gillian awoke, freezing. She groped around, squinting in the darkness for her now non-existent comforter. She felt a slight movement beside her, and sat up to find Cal wrapped in the covers, shivering in a state of half-consciousness. She remembered seeing a spare blanket in the closet, and got up to retrieve it. She stretched it out over Cal and accidently brushed his cheek with the back of her hand. It was warm—a little too warm. She sighed—he probably had a low fever, but not enough to warrant serious attention. She climbed back into bed.

Gillian couldn't sleep.

She still felt the faint shivering of her partner. He tossed and turned, never seeming to get comfortable, all the while pulling the comforter back around him—and consequently off Gillian.

She finally relented, giving in to what she knew would be the only way either of them would be able to sleep. She scooted over, closing the space between them and draping her arm across his waist, pulling his back closer to the warmth of her body.

She marveled at how comfortable this felt—them together. Her heart beat a little faster, and her breathing sped up. Being this close, this intimate, this vulnerable with Cal made her head swim. She lay there, feeling a little out of control, yet inexplicably happy—the warm fuzzies had taken over and were spreading from head to toe. She hugged him closer, inhaling his sweet scent, finally drifting off to sleep.


	2. Redemption

Cal woke up with a throbbing headache.

"_Bloody hell,"_ he thought, squinting against the bright light shining in through the window. He tried to sit up, suddenly becoming aware of a slender arm that was draped over his side. A woman's arm.

He couldn't remember going home with anyone—but these were certainly not familiar surroundings. _"Where was he?" _In a hotel room, he thought. _"But who was in his bed?"_ He lay there, trying desperately to remember the night before. He remembered the casino. And he remembered the idiotic bet that had left him one million dollars lighter. He groaned inwardly, deciding he'd better get this over with, fully intending to tell the pretty girl in his bed go home.

He rolled over gingerly, finding himself face to face with a sleeping Gillian Foster. And it all came flooding back. He remembered ordering drink after drink, until he could barely see straight, much less walk. He remembered drunkenly staggering into a pool table, effectively ending their game—and earning a few bruises for his efforts. He remembered seeing stars, and slumping into a corner, intending to wait for the return of his senses.

And he remembered that it was Gillian who helped him up, Gillian who took him home, and Gillian who doctored his wounds. It had always been Gillian. He didn't know how or why she was always good to him. He knew he didn't deserve her kindness and unwavering loyalty.

Guilt overwhelmed him. He knew how much he'd worried her with his gambling and drinking. And he knew he'd hurt her deeply, pushing her away for a night of fun with Poppy. He had ignored most of her suggestions about the case, and accused her of being overbearing and "smothering." And just as she was starting to really trust and open up to him after her divorce, he'd replaced her.

He felt like scum.

Lower than scum.

He'd do his best to make it up to her. Even if it took forever.

He took in her still sleeping form. She lay perfectly still, her chest lightly rising and falling, and her hand now rested directly over his heart. He leaned over and gently kissed the corner of her mouth. Gillian smiled lazily, her eyes still closed. He took an errant strand of hair and tucked behind her ear, whispering softly, "Gill, wake up." Her eyelids fluttered, then opened slowly. "Good morning love."

Her eyes opened a little wider as she took in her surroundings. She realized that she was nestled up in Cal's shoulder, and began to pull back in embarrassment. Cal grabbed her hand as she tried to remove it from his chest, and kissed it gently. "I'm sorry love."

Gillian reluctantly pulled herself upright and out of his arms, knowing that there were some things that needed to be said before she lost her nerve. "Cal Lightman," she began. He started to interrupt, but she held up her hand to stop him. "I can't do this anymore, Cal," she said softly. He could see the hurt welling up in her eyes. "You've had me tied up in knots, worrying about you and trying to protect you from yourself. Trying to make excuses for your bad judgment, and pretending that it doesn't hurt when you push me aside." Cal cringed. If he could just take it all back, he would. He held his breath, waiting for her to finish.

"Cal, she whispered, stroking his cheek, "I love you dearly, and I will always be your anchor, your friend. But I need you to know, that this is not okay. You hurt me, and you have a choice to make. I don't want to see you give up everything we've built because of your past guilt, or because you fall into old habits.

He slumped back against the pillows, guilt overtaking him.

"You are a good man, Cal Lightman," she said, forcing his chin up to meet her eyes.

He saw no deception. She really believed that. Such faith. Such undeserved faith.

"Gill, love, I choose you."

Her heart melted. She couldn't hold back any longer. She never had been any good at staying mad at Cal. In one swift motion, she threw her arms around his shoulders, pulling him close.

Cal exhaled in relief. He was so grateful for a chance to make things right. Grateful that something in her made her stay, made her care. He wrapped his arms around her tighter, holding on as if he'd never get enough.

As they finally broke apart, a tear rolled down his face. The great Cal Lightman was crying. Seeing this, Gillian leaned forward, kissing away a tear on his cheek and ruffling his hair. "I mean what I said Cal," she told him, "You are a good man, and it's time you start believing that." Cal clasped her hands in his and looked deep into her eyes.

"Take me home, love?"


	3. Part of Your World

Cal Lightman could cook.

Gillian marveled at the sight of Cal bustling around the kitchen. It was Christmas Eve, and Cal was happier than she'd seen him in a very long time. He'd busied himself with not only cooking, but his house of "organized chaos" was now sparkling clean. And was that—yes, that _was _Christmas music playing in the background.

She stood in the doorway—he still hadn't noticed her presence. She smiled devilishly—well, as devilishly as Gillian Foster _could_ smile that is. There were very few opportunities to surprise Cal Lightman, and she planned to take full advantage of this one. She slipped off her shoes and tip-toed across the kitchen. Cal was rummaging in an overhead cabinet when she reached him. Gillian wrapped her arms around his waist, and whispered in his ear. "Looking for something?"

Cal Lightman jumped about a foot in the air.

Gillian was shaking with laughter as he turned around. "You think that's funny do you?" he asked, faking anger. Gillian was still laughing too hard to form a coherent sentence. "You—your face—got—you," was all she managed to say. "You mean to tell me that I've been slaving over your dinner, and the only thing you can think about is how to scare the daylights out of me?" he demanded, suppressing a smile.

"Oh Cal, be a good sport." she pouted, and Cal finally cracked a smile. "Well played love," he said, pulling her into a hug. "I'm glad you're here."

She smiled. "Where's Emily?" she asked.

"Upstairs. She's cleaning her room—or at least clearing a path through it. I told her that you're bunking in with her tonight, and she's ecstatic."

Right on cue, Emily came bouncing down the stairs. Her eyes lit up as she saw Gillian standing in the kitchen, and she rushed forward to hug her. "Gillian!" she exclaimed. Gillian returned the embrace with just as much enthusiasm. She loved Emily as if she were her own daughter.

"Blimey," said Cal, "It sure doesn't take much to make you girls happy." He rolled his eyes. "Em, why don't you help Gill take her things up to your room? Dinner will be ready soon."

Still bouncing, Emily grabbed Gillian's overnight bag, and the two of them climbed the stairs, whispering conspiratorially.

As soon as they were out of sight, Cal allowed himself to crack a smile. He was going to get to spend Christmas with the two most important people in his world.

It was getting late. Scenes from _"It's A Wonderful Life" _flashed across the television, but no one was paying the movie much attention any more.

Cal and Emily had fought over the right to sit next to Gillian, and being the peacemaker that she was, Gillian squeezed in the middle, ending their pointless debate. But now, hours later, Emily lay sleeping, snuggled up to Gillian, and Gillian reclined backwards against Cal's warm chest.

Cal was afraid to move, not knowing whether or not Gillian was awake. So he spent a few moments in quiet reflection. He marveled at how this felt like being a part of a family again. It had been so long. He mulled over Emily's only Christmas request.

"_So, Em, what's on the list this year? New clothes? A puppy? Her eyes lit up at the mention of a dog. Scratch that—I'm not getting you a puppy. Too much trouble." Emily pretended to mull it over, a smile creeping across her face. "Okay then, no puppy. What about –" Cal interrupted her. "Nothing that's gonna cost me a fortune, and nothing that poops," he said firmly. "So, I can have anything else then?" she asked. His eyebrows narrowed. She was up to something. "Anything else that isn't drugs, alcohol, tight jeans, or a body piercing," he amended, trying to cover all the bases. "Promise?" she asked, smiling innocently. Cal hesitated, knowing he was going to regret this. "Promise."_

_Emily squealed. "Okay, dad. For my Christmas present, I want you to kiss Gillian, ON THE LIPS, for more than two seconds." She grinned triumphantly. _

_She caught him off guard. "No." he replied."Why not dad? I know you want to, and you promised!" she exclaimed. "You promised." That last line was a bit more of an accusation. Cal was caught in that proverbial rock and a hard place. "We'll discuss this later," said Cal, and the look he shot Emily was enough to convince her to drop it for now._

He'd invited Gillian to spend Christmas with them because he knew that otherwise she'd be spending it alone. And Gillian was not the type to exclude from Christmas. She thrived on the decorating, the baking, and the festivity in the air. And she was the most giving person he knew. On a holiday centered around giving, it was perfectly fitting to spend it with Gillian.

Emily shifted around in her sleep, bringing Cal back to reality. And apparently Gillian too. She turned her head around to face Cal, who seemed not to have noticed that the closing credits were scrolling across the screen. "Cal," she whispered.

Her hair brushed across his chin and he inhaled her scent. She smelled wonderful. And he was loathe to move. But reluctantly, he sat up and helped Gillian wake Emily. "You girls go on up," he said, "I'll be there in a minute."

He checked to make sure all of the doors were locked, as was his nightly habit, and went to retrieve the hidden presents and arrange them under the tree. Five for Emily, three for Gillian, and a couple for various other people. Emily was far past the age of believing in Santa, but he still loved seeing her delight when a whole pile of presents "appeared" under the tree on Christmas morning.

Gillian was still awake when she heard his footsteps coming up the stairs. He knocked quietly at the door. "Come in," came her soft reply. He opened the door to find her sitting up, reading, while Emily dozed on the far side of the bed. "She asleep?" he asked, motioning to Emily. "I think so." She replied.

Cal crossed the room to Emily's side of the bed and bent over, pulling her hair out of her face, and kissing her lightly on the forehead. "Goodnight love."

Gillian smiled. Cal might be a lot of things—but she knew that his favorite role was that of a father. And he was a damn good one in her professional opinion.

He crossed back over to her and she motioned for him to sit down on the edge of the bed. Setting her book down, she took his hand in hers. "Thank you," she said softly, and Cal could see her gratitude flow all the way up to her eyes. "No problem love, we're happy to have you. I'd be a miserable sod if I let you spend Christmas alone."

The double meaning to their conversation did not go unnoticed to either of them. "Thank you," she had said. _Thank you for being there for me, for letting me be a part of your family, for caring for me like I know you do." _He'd replied with "No problem love, we're happy to have you. I'd be a miserable sod if I let you spend Christmas alone. _I'm always happy to have you around. I'd be a miserable man if I let you spend your life alone. Spend it with me."_

She rested her hand on his chest, just above his heart, and caressed his face with the other. Her breath hitched in her throat. She leaned forward, putting her arms around his shoulders, resting her head on his back. "Thank you," she said again, "You don't know how much you both mean to me." She pulled back, resting her forehead against his. She could hear his breath come in short, ragged bursts. He tilted her chin upward, searching her face.

And all he saw was love.

He leaned into her, kissing the corner of her mouth as he had so often done before. Gillian closed her eyes. He moved to her lips, brushing them with a soft kiss. And before she could return it, his lips were gone. He didn't want to push it, didn't want to lose her trust.

"Goodnight love," he whispered, and with a lingering kiss to her forehead, he was gone.

**Many thanks to everyone who has reviewed. Each little bit of encouragement is inspiring. Hope you enjoyed this last chapter—a longer one, seeing as I will be out of town, and unable to update until at least Sunday. More reviews=Sunday update. **

**Next up: Christmas Day, perhaps with a bit of mistletoe thrown in. **

**~AW**


	4. Honesty

"Go get her dad." Emily mumbled. "We can't—don't lose her." She tossed around in her sleep, clearly agitated.

Gillian, who had been contemplating how to get out of bed without waking Emily, leaned over and gently shook the girl's shoulders. The pained look on Emily's face was enough to convince her that she would be better off awake. Her eyelids fluttered, and she looked around, wide-eyed and fearful until her eyes found Gillian's concerned form leaning over her.

"Gillian." It was a half-whisper, half-sob. And then, barely audible, "I'm so glad you're here." Emily sat up, nestling in Gillian's arms. Gillian returned the embrace, rubbing little circles on her back, all the while trying to soothe her with a gentle "Shh, it's okay. It's okay."

Her breathing slowed, and Gillian tipped her face up to meet her eyes. "Emily, honey, what's got you so shaken up? It's Christmas morning—you should be bouncing off the walls."

Emily finally cracked a weak smile. But sadness filled her eyes again as she started to explain. "It was just a really awful dream," she started. "A nightmare that hit close to home."

Gillian was curious, but decided to let the issue drop, sensing that Emily didn't want to reveal any more. She tucked a strand of Emily's hair behind her ear and kissed her lightly on the forehead. "Come on Em, I smell breakfast." And she did. The delicious scent of sausage wafted through the house, undeterred by walls and closed doors.

Gillian pulled on her robe, and started towards the doorway when she heard Emily start to speak again.

"My dream. You were gone."

Gillian began to speak, but then hesitated, waiting for her to finish.

"I know dad can be a real jerk sometimes, but don't give up on him, please Gill? He loves you, you know."

It wasn't a question. She was asking for a silent confirmation.

Gillian was caught off guard. And about a million thoughts ran through her head at the same time. But she decided to be honest with Emily. She thought that she deserved that at least.

She nodded her head almost imperceptibly. "I know."

She strode across the room and put an arm around Emily's shoulders. "And I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

And arm in arm, they descended the stairs, with a newfound silent understanding between them.

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_**I know! This chapter is painfully short. But I felt like you guys deserved a little sneak preview of Christmas day that I promised. This is only Part I of Christmas day. Part II will most definitely be added later today or tonight.**_

_**~AW**_


	5. A Christmas to Remember

Breakfast was a mostly silent affair as Cal's sausage gravy was particularly excellent. Excellent to the point at which speaking was a secondary priority. And it was probably for the best, come to think of it. There was a certain degree of uncertainty to deal with all around. Gillian mulled over her conversation with Emily, wondering if she'd said the right thing. And Cal, every time she looked at him, she remembered that kiss. And that alone was enough to encourage the wanderlust of her mind.

They'd migrated from the kitchen to the living room, turning on the television to watch the local Christmas parade, and sat down to open presents, as was tradition. Cal rounded the corner, video camera in hand, and set it up to record memories of this Christmas morning. Gillian looked on as Cal pulled certain presents to the forefront of the pile, and declared that they be opened first. He handed a circular flat package to her, and a small rectangular box to Emily. Not to be outdone, she tossed a present of her own to him.

Chuckling, he unwrapped a collection of James Bond movies—the only thing he really watched on TV besides the news. Emily groaned. "Gillian, I thought you were on my side! I'm never going to get him to watch anything else now." Cal grinned. "She couldn't help it Em. It's just that I remind her so much of James Bond that she couldn't resist. You know, with my irresistible accent and dashing good looks." He winked at Gillian.

Gillian turned her head away, blushing uncontrollably—a rare occurrence. Instead of meeting his gaze, she focused on tearing away the wrapping paper from her present, which turned out to be a massive cookie cake, emblazoned with "Merry Christmas Love." She smiled. He was sweeter than she gave him credit for. Tucked under the lid was a gift certificate to a local bakery, because, according to Cal, "That's where children get their food from."

Meanwhile, Emily had unwrapped a gift card to the mall, courtesy of her father. He smiled sheepishly. "I wasn't about to try and buy you clothes. Even if I could guess your size, I'm no good at picking out things that you like." Emily laughed, remembering his last attempt to shop for her. "It's okay Dad," she said, "This is one hundred percent better than that peach poncho thing from last year."

"I was hoping that you might get Gillian to go shopping with you," he admitted. She's much better at that kind of thing.

"Ooh, now that might actually be fun!" exclaimed Emily. Gillian squeezed her hand. "It's a date then. Me, you, and the mall. Can't wait."

Emily pulled two identical presents from underneath the tree, handing one to her father, and one to Gillian. "Unwrap them at the same time," she instructed, and she held her breath, waiting for their reactions. Gillian worked the paper slowly, doing as little damage as possible. Cal, on the other hand, pulled one half completely off to reveal the back side of a picture frame. "Emily," he began, "aren't you a bit old to being giving your old man pictures of—" he stopped, his words catching in his throat as he realized what the picture was of. "Oh Emily, it's beautiful," exclaimed Gillian. "It's perfect."

Smiling up at them from the picture frame was a photo of the three of them in front of the fireplace, taken just last night. Cal stood, flashing one of his rare smiles, with an arm around both Gillian and Emily. "I thought you might put them in your offices. They're a little sparse—especially yours Dad, she explained.

Cal didn't respond immediately. He stared longingly at the picture, intensely enough for Gillian to notice. He had let his guard down, and she saw how badly he wished that they were the smiling family in the picture. "It's lovely Em, really," he mustered.

Gillian seized the opportunity to hand out the last of her presents. A blue sport coat for Cal, because "You don't wear enough color, and besides, it brings out the pretty in your eyes," she teased. And to Emily, she gave a tea-length mauve dress from her teenage years. "Sadly, I can't quite fit into it anymore, and it'll look just stunning on you," she promised.

A few presents later, and the pile was dwindling. Cal pulled two small boxes from under the tree and handed one to both Emily and Gillian. They looked at him curiously, but continued to unwrap their presents, finding a small jewelry box underneath. Lifting the lid, their eyes fell upon an old silver locket in each box, one engraved with an "E", the other with a "G." Twin lockets.

"They belonged to my grandmother Elizabeth and her sister Georgia," he explained. "They've been in a box in the attic for years, and I only just found them again last month. I couldn't think of anyone more fitting to give them to, and besides—they already have your initials on them. I figured it was meant to be, eh Gill?"

Gillian was momentarily speechless. She turned the locket over in her hands, examining the intricate designs and running her finger over the silver "G." "It's breathtaking Cal, she started, "but I can't take this—it's a family heirloom."

Cal raised his eyebrows and looked disapprovingly at her. "Did you not just hear my fancy speech about how it already has your initials and all?" he asked. "And hell, do you think I'm gonna wear it around my neck?" he teased. "It's yours love, to match Emily's."

"And speaking of that, Emily and I have a present for you that might make you feel a little better about accepting that locket, right Em?" he asked. "Right," she answered, bounding across the room and presenting Gillian with a small square box. Gillian opened it to find a key ring with two keys, a little black button, and a small cookie charm. "A house key, a car key, and a garage door opener," Emily explained. "We felt bad about making you find the spare key every time you need to get in, seeing as Mr. Paranoid here feels the need to keep moving the location." She gestured to her father.

"Oi, she got in quite well yesterday. Like to scared me to death she did," he said, faking annoyance. "Might not be the best idea to give her a set of keys, eh?"

Gillian purposefully ignored him. "And the cookie? What's that for? Still making fun of me for my sweet tooth?" she asked.

"Nope," said Emily. "That's a reminder to you that we want you to come over, once a week for dinner, from now on," explained Emily. "And if you're good, we'll feed you cookies," finished Cal.

Emily shot him a dirty look. "What he's _trying _to say is, Gill, welcome to the family."

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**Next up, more of Christmas Day, but in Part III, Emily goes to her mom's house. What will Cal and Gillian do all by themselves? :D**


	6. A New Beginning

**This chapter is rated M. You have been warned.**

At eight 'o'clock on the dot, the doorbell rang, interrupting their rather intense game of Scrabble. No one moved. "Don't everyone get up at once," grumbled Cal, getting to his feet. "It's probably your mom Em—do you have your stuff ready to go?

"Almost," she replied, dashing up the stairs to get her things. Her mother had very little patience, and the last thing she wanted to do was make her wait, especially with Gillian downstairs. She'd never completely understood the animosity that her mother felt towards Gillian, seeing as Gillian was never anything but gracious to her. But then again, with Gillian in the picture, her mother's place in her father's life was secondary to Gillian, and Zoe Landau was never second to anyone.

Her thoughts were interrupted by voices in the foyer. She grabbed her bags and tip-toed to the front hallway to listen. "Gillian!" exclaimed Zoe, with false delight, "I didn't expect to see you here." _"And I'm the Queen of France," _thought Cal. Gillian, ever the mature one, smiled politely. "I thought you'd be at home, with your _husband,_" she finished, feigning ignorance of Gillian's marital woes. Gillian let out a little gasp, and Cal moved toward her protectively, resting his hand on the small of her back.

Emily chose that moment to clear her throat and descend the stairs, not wanting the already tense situation to escalate. "Hi Mom," she chimed, attempting to lighten the mood. Zoe's eyes narrowed as she noticed the matching lockets that Gillian and Emily were both now wearing. "_My_ daughter and I will be going now," she practically spat, turning on her heel and walking out the door. Emily looked apologetically at her dad and Gillian. "I'm sorry. She's in an awful mood. And Gill, I'm sure she didn't mean those things she said." She gave them both a quick hug before following her mother out into the night.

"Well, that was erm, lovely, eh? She's such a gem." Cal tried to downplay the significance of Zoe's scathing words. But Gillian had already turned away, and was trying to unclasp the locket from around her neck. Cal pulled her hands away, taking them in his own. "Hey now love, what's this?" he asked.

"Cal, stop it. Just stop." She pulled out of his grasp. "I appreciate your sympathy, but I don't need it. I don't belong here." He could see tears welling up in her eyes. "Thank you for having me over, but I need to go home now," she said bravely, and she turned to walk past him. Cal wasn't having any of that. He caught her arm, and pulled her in close, taking her into his arms. She tried to push him away, but he held on tighter until her struggle ceased. She finally relented, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Now love," he began, nuzzling her ear, "I shouldn't have to tell you this, but you ought to know that you always have a place here. And I don't just mean at this house. You will always have a place in our family, Gill. We're so much happier when you're around, Emily and I both."

Gillian looked up at him doubtfully. "When you're here, we're more than just a father and daughter," he explained. "You make us a family."

And to prove his point, he leaned in, placing another feather-light kiss on her tear-stained lips. A kiss that was returned, cautiously, slowly—but a kiss that was full of trust and hope for what could be.

Cal reluctantly broke away, but before she could feel rejected, he said "Come on love, I've still got one more present for you." He put an arm around her shoulders, and steered her back towards the living room.

"I wasn't sure how you'd react to this present, so I wanted to wait until Emily was gone to give it to you," he began. "And I'm still not sure what your feelings will be, but I thought that you deserved to know, at the very least." He handed her a thin flat package, and sat down beside her.

Gillian was intrigued. She searched his face for some clue as to its contents, but all she could find was a little uncertainty, and perhaps concern. She pulled off the wrapping paper to find a manila envelope. She pulled nervously at the papers inside, and gasped when she saw the picture on top.

A brown-haired, blue-eyed toddler smiled up at her from the Polaroid. But she'd know that little face anywhere.

It was Sophie.

"Cal," she pleaded. "What is this?" She stuttered. "After all this time?"

"Read a little further love. Look at what it says, here" he pointed. "She was moved to foster care three months ago after her mother was arrested on robbery charges." He let that sink in. "She won't be eligible for parole until Sophie's a teenager."

Gillian sat speechless, too afraid to get her hopes up.

"Gillian love, they're actively trying to find her a permanent home. And I thought you ought to know that, even if you've changed your mind about adopting, because she was once yours."

Gillian's heart might as well have exploded for all the emotion she was feeling now. "How did you find her Cal?" she asked, breathless. "I may have, er, committed a few felonies in the process," he admitted. "Oh Cal," she exclaimed, adoration shining from her eyes. She launched herself across the couch at him, kissing every inch of his face she could get to. "On second thought," said Cal grinning, "The felonies were totally worth it."

She smacked him playfully, and moved closer, pinning him to the back of the couch. And in one swift movement, her lips were on his, fully and passionately this time—there was no holding back. She entwined her fingers in his hair, and his hands explored the smooth skin of her back.

Cal broke away, gasping for air. "Good God Gillian, you're trying to kill me," he rasped. She chuckled. "If I'd known that I'd get this reaction, I'd have tried to kill you before," she teased. She fingered the buttons on his shirt, and before he knew it, she was running her small hands over his bare chest. He moved to cover his scars, but she caught his hands, kissing each one softly. "Let me see," she whispered. "She gently pulled his shirt the rest of the way off, caressing each tender scar, each mark of a violent past. "You're beautiful," she whispered in awe.

And Cal couldn't find a trace of deceit in her face.

"No more masks Cal."

And he nodded in silent agreement. No more masks.

And the moment they both let their guards down, each saw their own desires reflected in the other. _Hope. Trust. Love. _

Cal raised an eyebrow, and Gillian nodded, answering his silent question. He took her hand and they climbed the stairs to his bedroom.

Once inside, Gillian took his hands and placed them on bottom edge of her t-shirt, motioning for him to take it off of her. He pulled the soft fabric up over her shoulders, kissing her creamy white shoulders, and nuzzling his face in the crook of her neck.

A few minutes later both had been relieved of their clothing. Gillian lay on the bed, and Cal was nearly dumbstruck by her beauty. He began kissing her—first in that tender spot behind her ear, then brushing her lips he continued down, tasting the soft flesh on her neck. He grazed the sensitive area between her breasts, and caressed her navel with his light kisses.

His lips met hers again, and she began to feel a new sensation. And blushing, she realized what was causing it. Suffice it to say that Cal's fingers were incomparably skilled. She squirmed in delight at his ministrations, and gripped him tightly as she felt her body begin to betray her.

"Cal," she pleaded.

He needed no more prompting. He slid into the warmth of her body, slowly and carefully, tasting her mouth and moving in a gentle rhythm. It was slow, sweet, and utterly perfect.

Gillian gasped, her body rocking in time with his thrusts. "Faster," she cried, grasping wildly for something to hold on to as she felt him pushing her over the edge. And just as in her romance novels, he came with her, and they collapsed, breathless with mutual satisfaction.

"Oh my God Cal," she exclaimed. She'd never been more satisfied in her life. "That was… you are… amazing," she finished, frustrated at how inarticulate he was making her.

He moved to kiss her again, but she stopped him with a finger to his lips.

"Oh, and Cal?"

"Mmhmm?"

"I love you."

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**Hope you enjoyed. I wasn't planning on this moving so fast, but I thought it made a perfect Christmas present. I'm rather uncomfortable writing anything smutty, so please excuse my lack of overt detail. But there you have it. Please review. **


	7. Resolution

A mid-morning sun vanquished the last moments of Cal Lightman's deep slumber.

He stole a glance at the clock. _10:16 am. _There was no way he'd slept past ten. He blinked, squinting to make sure he'd seen right. _"Blimey," _thought Cal, awestruck. He couldn't remember ever waking up this late, or past 7 am for that matter.

His train of thought was diverted by a slight movement in his arms. He realized that the warm mass snuggled up against him was indeed, a sleeping Gillian Foster. Looking down at her face, he smiled. She was beautiful beyond words. And it felt entirely too wonderful to have her in his arms.

And that's when it hit him. She _was _entirely too wonderful to be in his arms. Entirely too perfect, too pure to have a place in his world. She deserved so much better. He thought back to the previous night and felt sick. He felt dirty, like he'd taken advantage of her, violated her intrinsically unblemished soul. Disgusted with himself, he pulled away from her, creating a space between their bodies.

Gillian's eyelids fluttered, none too happy with the sudden loss of warmth. She groped around for Cal, finally finding him, using his body as an anchor to pull herself back towards him. She buried her face in his chest, inhaling his familiar scent.

He stiffened, and it did not go unnoticed.

Gillian opened her eyes, reading the disgust, fear, concern, and self-loathing in an instant. She was angry. Angry at whoever made him this way. At whoever made him so reluctant to see himself as a good person.

In one swift motion, she reached up and slapped him across the face.

_Surprise. Confusion. And a little bit of fear._

"Cal Lightman," she said sternly. "Whatever the hell it is you're thinking—stop it now."

She caressed his face lightly where an angry red spot was beginning to form.

No response.

She leaned down, kissing his chest, making her way up—kissing his shoulders, his neck. Her lips found the corner of his mouth, and he turned his head away.

Angry again, she turned his face back to meet hers. "Look at me Cal," she commanded. "Do you see any regret?"

No response.

"Do you regret this?" she asked.

There was a long pause before he finally answered. "Gill," he whispered. "This is all I've ever wanted, and the only thing I regret is that I can't be the man you deserve." He smiled sadly.

Gillian sighed, still frustrated. "Look at it this way Cal," she began, "You can see that I have no regrets, and you can tell that I truly believe that you're a good man. Look at my face, and tell me otherwise," she challenged.

"So why do you doubt my judgment?" she asked. "You trust me to determine the motivations of serial killers, of cheating spouses, and even terrorists, but suddenly, my intuition isn't credible enough to make you believe that I love you for the wonderful man that I _know _you are?"

She saw a glimmer of hope in his eyes, and pressed on. "I don't want anyone but you Cal, and the more you try to prove otherwise, the unhappier we'll both be. So just stop."

He nodded his consent. She let out a sigh of relief and wrapped her arms around him once more.

"Gill," he whispered, "We've got to take this slow. I don't want to mess things up. This is too important, love."

"I know," she answered. "And I think you're right." She let her hand rest over his heart. "Slow is good."

He chuckled. "We're off to a mighty good start, yeah?" He gestured to their clothes, still strewn across the floor. Gillian blushed, swatting him playfully.

"Oi, and enough with the abuse," he complained. She kissed him full on the mouth, and his protests ceased immediately.

Gillian, smiled, amused at the effect she had on him. "Now turn around Cal, while I get dressed."

"Isn't it a bit late for that love?" he laughed. "Slow is good, remember?" she replied evenly. "Now turn around."

Cal reluctantly did as he was told, pulling on a pair of pants himself.

He stood with his back facing her. Gillian dressed and walked softly across the bedroom floor, fully intending to take him by surprise. Instead, he spun around at the last second, lifting her off the floor and whirling her around the room.

He set her down grinning. "Didn't expect that, did ya love?" he asked.

"Cal Lightman, you are full of surprises," she answered. "Although I'd be a bit more impressed if you swept me off my feet with a bouquet of roses and chocolates in tow," she teased.

"Just so long as it's not chocolate pudding, I'll be happy to oblige."

At that moment, Gillian's stomach let out a low rumble, causing them both to double over with laughter.

They looked into each other's eyes, both knowing that this was the start of something words could only begin to describe.


	8. A Place Called Home

Cal lugged the last bookcase from his now-empty study as the doorbell rang. The painters had arrived. After interrogating them in a thoroughly Cal-like manner, he led them upstairs and set them to work. They began to spread a deep rose color across the walls, and Cal stood back, admiring their work. Gillian would love it.

He missed her presence already. Gillian had gone the previous morning to visit her sister in North Carolina. Technically, Julie was Gillian's half-sister, a product of one of her father's numerous affairs. The sisters were eight years apart, and Gillian didn't even know that Julie existed until she was in graduate school.

_Gillian answered the phone on the last ring, ragged from the stresses of her coursework. "Hello?" came a weak voice from the other end of the line. "Is this Gillian?" She heard the anxiety in the young woman's voice and softened immediately. "Yes, this is Gillian." She paused. The small voice continued. "My name is Julie Jensen, and I think you're my sister."_

As she came to find out, Julie's upbringing had probably been even worse than her own. They began to exchange phone calls and emails regularly, especially as Julie's home life worsened. Her mother was an alcoholic who flew into violent rages on occasion. The day she turned eighteen, Julie caught a plane to DC, and stayed with Gillian her senior year of high school. Then, just as quickly as she'd come, she was off to college in North Carolina. The city life had never suited her.

Julie was quite possibly the most resilient person Gillian had ever met. She warmed to college life with vigor—an impeccable student, and a leader on campus. She met the love of her life at age 19, and married Paul St. James right out of college. He was in medical school, she in the nursing program. He finished up school the year they had their first child, David, and they packed up and moved out into the countryside. They bought and renovated 120-year-old farmhouse, in a style that intrinsically belonged to Paul and Julie, and settled down to live out their happily ever after. David was followed a few years later by Phoebe, and then Grace. And just when they thought they were finished, along came twins, Emma and Ellie.

Gillian couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at her sister's good fortune. She loved Julie, and she adored her nephew and nieces, but she couldn't help but feel that it was unfair that her sister had gotten everything that Gillian desperately wanted. And so, her visits were mostly joyful, but tinged with sadness.

In the meantime, Cal was doing his best to make her feel like a part of his family. He'd spent the previous day cleaning out his much-beloved study, which was originally intended to be a bedroom anyway, as evidenced by the closet and attached bath. He wanted to give her a place in his home that was uniquely hers. She couldn't bunk in with Emily forever, and he didn't want to pressure her into spending the night in his bed, seeing as they had decided to take things slow. That might be a bit awkward for Emily as well. On second thought, Emily would probably be thrilled.

He'd spent the next couple of days relocating his office to a smaller, mostly unused room in the house, and carrying furniture down from the attic. He'd brought out his grandmother's beautiful rosewood bed that had been in the attic collecting dust for years. He enticed the painting crew to help him carry the armoire and vanity dresser, a job that left them breathless and cursing the weight of solid wood. Arranging the end tables on either side of the bed, and placing lamp on each, he took a break to call Emily, whose help he would surely need to decorate.

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A day and several hundred dollars later, Cal and Emily stood admiring their handiwork. An exquisite quilt, adorned with roses covered the bed, and they'd found a soft rug to match. The fireside picture of the three of them hung near the closet, and sheer ivory drapes graced the windows. They'd even replaced the ugly metal light fixture with a small bronze chandelier, completing the antique atmosphere of the room. As final touch, Cal hand-painted the words "Truth and Happiness" in the empty space over the bed in gold letters. For Gillian was his truth _and _happiness. They were no longer mutually exclusive, and Gillian was the only person who could make them so.

He'd truly outdone himself—Remembering Gillian's words about sweeping her off her feet with flowers and chocolate—he decided to do exactly that. He'd bought a large bouquet of deep crimson roses that he placed on her bedside table, next to a small picture of Sophie. And on the dresser, where she'd be sure to find them, lay a box of gourmet chocolates.

Emily Lightman was no idiot. She saw just how much her father loved Gillian. I mean, really—who else would he go to this much trouble for? He was love-struck, and she knew it. It also made her incredibly happy to have Gillian around.

And secretly, Cal hoped that having a little place of her own would encourage her to spend more time with him and Emily. Her new apartment was terribly far away, and he hated the thought of her alone, especially while she was going through a bitter divorce.

He was shaken out of his reverie by Emily's insistent voice. "Daaad! Come on! We're going to be late getting Gillian." He grabbed his coat and car keys, but not fast enough to suit Emily. "Daaad! You wouldn't want Gill to have to call Loker to pick her up would you?"

He walked faster.

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Gillian's plane had been delayed.

"_Just bloody perfect," _thought Cal. He wasn't in the mood to have the conversation that Emily had been dancing around all day, and the expected hour delay was plenty of time for her to interrogate him. Thankfully, a nice-looking young man sat down opposite them, and her attention was temporarily diverted.

After another agonizing half an hour pouring over one uninteresting magazine after the next, Cal decided that he'd had enough of learning about Brangelina's new orphan baby, and chucked a twenty dollar bill towards Emily. "Go find us some food, yeah? And no mystery meat for Gillian. Or pudding."

She replied with a "Sure Dad, whatever," and set off in search of some lovely airport cuisine.

Another five minutes passed, and Cal started pacing, partly out of worry, but mostly out of sheer boredom. He was relieved when he heard the overhead announcement.

"Flight 2416 from Raleigh-Durham International has arrived at Gate 12. Repeat, flight 2416 from RDU arriving at Gate 12."

Five more minutes ticked by, and she appeared, descending the escalator, her eyes searching the crowd, finally finding him. She smiled all the way up to her eyes.

He crossed the room to meet her, nearly tripping an elderly woman in his haste. She dropped her bags, and for a moment, they stood simply staring at each other before Cal enveloped her in a hug.

"Welcome home love."

She clung to him a little longer than necessary, and he sensed a sort of quiet desperation in her embrace. He pulled back, searching her face. She smiled a sort of sad smile, and he knew that it was the slight sadness that she always experienced after she visited her sister. She didn't mean to be sad. She was in fact, quite happy to have seen her sister, and even happier to see Cal again, but she still had this unrelenting longing, an emptiness that was magnified each time she saw her sister's happy family.

Her sadness evaporated as she caught sight of Emily bounding toward her, arms outstretched. "Gillian!" she exclaimed, rushing forward to hug her. "I'm so glad you're home. I've only been back at Dad's for a day, and the house feels so empty."

Gillian smiled from ear to ear, and Cal seized the opportunity to take her bags from her. He slung an arm around her shoulders as Emily wrapped an arm around her waist. "We have the most wonderful surprise for you, Gill." Emily practically yelped.

"Mmhmm, what's that?" she asked.

"A surprise, and don't you go giving anything away." Cal warned. "You're quite a bad liar Em."

She rolled her eyes. "Let's go home."

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They walked in the front door and into the warmth of the house. It was getting late, and the winter cold was bone-chilling.

"Gill, you can put your things in my office," said Cal, attempting an air of nonchalance. She looked at him questioningly. "We set up the rollaway bed in there for you tonight."

Something wasn't quite right about his smile. He was hiding something. "Uh huh," she replied skeptically. "Remind yourself who it is that you're trying to lie to Cal."

His eyes widened in mock-innocence. "I don't have a clue what you're talking about love."

"Sure, sure," she muttered, and started upstairs, intent on finding out just what Cal had in store for her.

Cal motioned to Emily, and they followed her silently up the stairs.

Gillian was not at all prepared for what she saw when she opened the door to Cal's former study. She actually did a double take, making sure that she was in the right room. She looked around, recognizing the window seat only—it was a completely different room. And then, her eyes found the words painted on the wall. She'd know that handwriting anywhere. "Truth and happiness," she read aloud, and realized that this room was meant for her.

A slight noise in the doorway caught her attention. Cal and Emily stood there grinning, clearly amused by the shock on Gillian's face. And before she could ask the obvious question, Emily began to explain.

"We wanted you to have your own space here. A place that was completely yours," said Emily. Gillian looked to Cal, eyes still wide with disbelief. He nodded in affirmation. She was speechless. "Do you like it Gill?" she asked excitedly. "I helped Dad decorate, because, as we all know, he's a bit hopeless as far as his interior-designing skills go."

"Oi, I am not," he began, but was cut off by the sudden return of Gillian's voice. "It's beautiful," she sighed. She started to explore the room, finding the chocolates first, and popping one in her mouth immediately. A glint caught her eye, and she turned to find the picture of Cal, Emily, and herself on the wall. She caressed the frame lovingly with her hands.

Turning, she crossed the room, finding the bouquet of roses. Her breath caught in her throat as she discovered the little picture of Sophie beside it. "It's perfect," she whispered. "Thank you so much." Her voice cracked with emotion.

Sensing the change in mood, Emily pulled Gillian into a quick hug, and excused herself to go to bed.

"_Damn that kid is perceptive," _thought Cal. He made a mental note not to underestimate her.

Gillian sat on the far side of the bed, turning when she heard Cal approach. He rested a comforting hand on her shoulder, rubbing little circles across her back. "You all right love?" he asked.

She looked up at him, happiness evident in her features. "I'm more than all right, Cal, thanks to you."

"I take it you like the room then," he teased.

She reached up to caress his face. "The room is wonderful Cal. But it's infinitely more wonderful to have a family again."

She leaned up to meet his lips, kissing him softly.

"Touché love, touché."

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**So, I'll have you know that I've been trying to perfect this chapter for three days now. I've had a bad case of writer's block. Next up: New Year's Day, returning to work, tracking down Sophie, and perhaps a new case for the Lightman group. You decide how soon you want it—please review!**


	9. Scars

The first thing Gillian saw when she opened her eyes the next morning was the picture of Sophie, a beautiful bouncing toddler, smiling down at her. And her next thought was centered around the grumpy, yet lovable man who had given her renewed hope of finding her daughter again. She couldn't have asked for a better Christmas present.

She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She was going to embrace the day, cloudy though it might be. She walked over to her new closet, pulling out her house robe, and put it on. She examined her face in the mirror, absentmindedly flattening a few stubborn hairs and wiping the last vestiges of sleep from the corner of her eyes.

She wandered down the hallway, seeing both Emily and Cal's bedroom doors closed. That wasn't unusual for Emily, but surely Cal was up by now. Curious, she turned the doorknob quietly and slipped into Cal's room. He wasn't facing her, but Gillian could tell by the steady rhythm of his breathing that he was asleep. She walked around to the far side of the bed and leaned lightly against it.

Cal was irresistible most of the time, but especially when he was asleep. She couldn't think of how to explain it. It was like he was just Cal, not the famous Dr. Lightman, and the worries that so often creased his brow had no place on his sleeping visage. Gillian loved to watch him sleep.

But unfortunately, they had a big day ahead of them. It was New Year's Eve. Gillian had talked him into hosting a little New Year's Eve dinner, which was a huge achievement—one that she was exceptionally proud of, thank you very much. And later, they were going on a night cruise down the Potomac River, which had been something of a tradition for Cal and Emily for years.

So, as much as Gillian didn't want to disrupt his peaceful slumber, she reluctantly did so. She sat down on the edge of the bed and began to run her fingers gently through his hair. Her hands came to rest on his face as she quietly whispered his name.

Cal opened his eyes and groaned. Not at Gillian of course, but at the prospect of getting up. But she pretended not to know this. "Okay then, have it your way," she said, making to get up and leave. But Cal wasn't having any of that. His arms shot out, encircling Gillian's waist and pulling her back down on the bed.

"Change of heart?" she asked, smirking.

"Mmm. Right you are love," he answered.

She bent over, intending to place a chaste kiss on his cheek, but the ever-impertinent Cal Lightman turned his head at the last second so that her kiss met his lips instead. She rolled her eyes. "I should have seen that coming."

Cal sat up, bare-chested, and Gillian couldn't help but look. And of course he noticed. But it wasn't his chest that she was staring at, not exactly. Her eyes found one of his many scars, near the bottom of his rib cage and she traced its length with her fingers. It looked like an old scar, but it was a long one. Cal saw the grimace pass over her face as she imagined how painful it must have been. She raised her eyebrows, asking a silent question.

"London. 1983. Got on the wrong side of a gang of sorts. Knife wound. Thirty three stitches. Hurt like hell, it did."

Her fingers left his chest, finding a small circular scar on his upper arm. She had a feeling that she knew what left this scar.

"Yeah, cigarette butt. I was about ten years old." he muttered angrily. He flashed a brief expression of fear. "My father."

The psychologist in Gillian longed to have been there to protect the younger Cal, to perhaps have prevented some of the pain he'd experienced. He still remembered his father with fear in his eyes. She understood.

She broke his concentration by covering the small scar with her hand and leaning into him.

"We don't have to talk about this now," she whispered, putting her arms around him. He nodded gratefully. "I'll tell you everything one day, love."

She nodded. They'd take it a little at a time.

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**Short chapter to hold you guys over until I can get the New Year's Eve chapter up. Hope you enjoyed it.**


	10. Worth Your While

Cal Lightman was definitely going soft.

He stood in the kitchen doorway, watching Gillian bustle around his kitchen. It was an amusing sight to say the least. And perhaps even more amusing, was the fact that Cal Lightman was hosting a party. _"Joy," _he thought.

Cal had never liked parties. As far as he was concerned, they were an excuse to get drunk, and all the while pretend that everyone's happy and getting along. Maybe parties were never Cal's cup of tea because he could see right through that faux happiness. The air of festivity is ruined a bit when you find out that your neighbor and ex-wife are sleeping together, or that your daughter's new boyfriend has a drug problem. All the things that would be invisible to the average person, Cal saw all too clearly.

When he thought about it, that was the problem he had with everyday life—his abilities didn't have an "off" switch. But the false joviality and pretense of the party scene was just too much.

Nevertheless, here he was, suckered into not only _attending _one, but _hosting _one. "_Wonders'll never cease,"_ he thought, and that wasn't the first time Gillian had inspired that particular musing.

His thoughts were interrupted by his favorite voice.

"Earth to Cal," said Gillian, waving her hand in front of his face. "Here," she said, tossing his flowery apron at him. "Make yourself useful."

He started to put it on, fumbling with the ties.

Gillian chuckled. "Here, let me," she said, expertly undoing the knot, and pulling the apron over his head. Standing in front of him, she wrapped her arms around his waist, tying the apron ties together behind his back.

Taking advantage of her closeness, Cal leaned down, stealing a kiss, but pulled back when she started to laugh. "I feel like I'm kissing a girl," she said, gesturing to his effeminate apron.

Cal's eyes widened in mock horror as he considered her words. He started to speak, but apparently thought better of it, instead pinning her up against the refrigerator. Her eyes widened in surprise. He began a tortuously slow descent to her lips, ravaging her mouth with his own. When they both started breathing heavily, he pulled back. Emily was still in the house somewhere after all. "Still feel like you're kissing a girl? He asked, smirking a bit.

"Not at all," she said, smiling appreciatively. "But you still look like one," she teased, chucking a dishrag at him. "Oi, I do not," he exclaimed, tossing it back at her. He sniffed the air. "Something's burnin' love," he pointed out.

"Oh," exclaimed Gillian, rushing to the oven, rescuing the dinner rolls just in time to see the pot on the stove start to boil over. "I got it," said Cal, lifting the pot off of the stove eye and adjusting the temperature. He turned to find Gillian looking at him, clearly flustered, with her hands on her hips. "You, Cal Lightman, are quite the distraction." He grinned at her, proud of himself. "No, Cal, she clarified, you're the "ruining dinner" type of distraction." He looked confused. "The annoying, yet not entirely unwelcome kind of distraction that prevents me from getting anything accomplished," she finished.

"In that case," he said jokingly, "I'll be in the den, not interferin'. Maybe find out what Emily's up to." He ambled off in search of his daughter.

Gillian put the finishing touches on the meal and arranged the food buffet-style on the kitchen island just as the doorbell rang. She hung her apron on a hook and brushed the flour off of her sleeve before going to find Cal, who would inevitably be avoiding the front door.

She caught his arm as he was slipping into the bathroom, and linked it in her own, guiding him to the front door. "Be nice," she warned. He grumbled something unintelligible and plastered a fake smile on his face. "Better?" he asked. She shook her head. "Cal, the only person you have a chance at fooling with that smile is Reynolds, and that's questionable at best. Try and enjoy yourself, won't you?"

Gillian's pep talk was cut short as she opened the door, finding Torres and Loker standing awkwardly on the front porch. When Cal made no movement to welcome them, Gillian stepped in. "Come in you guys," she said, "welcome." She ushered them inside, closing the door against the bitter cold. "I'll take your coats," she offered.

Emily chose that moment to appear, gliding down the stairs to meet them. "Hi guys!" she chirped excitedly. "Em, would you show our guests to the kitchen, I need to speak to your father for a moment," asked Gillian.

"Sure thing Gill," she answered, pulling Torres with her into the next room. Loker followed, eyeing them suspiciously.

When they'd gone, Gillian turned to Cal, eyebrows raised. "Care to explain yourself?" she asked, hands on her hips.

He looked down, showing shame, but didn't say anything. "Tell you what Cal," she said, tilting his face up to meet hers. "You be a good boy and be nice to our employees, and I'll make it worth your while," she said, leaning up to kiss him briefly. "Understood?"she asked, smiling sweetly.

She turned to answer the door as Cal stared after her, slightly dumbfounded. She opened the door to find Reynolds shuffling around, bottle of wine in hand. "Ben, glad you could make it," she said warmly. "Yeah mate, come on in," said Cal, turning to lead the way.

Gillian chuckled to herself. It was going to be an interesting dinner for sure.

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**Part III of New Year's Eve, coming right up. Just thought I'd give you guys a preview. Stay tuned, and please take a few seconds to review!**


	11. The Happiest New Year

Dinner was a surprisingly lively affair, and Gillian's cooking skills were appreciated by all. Even Cal let out a low chuckle as Reynolds returned to the kitchen for a third helping.

"Hey man," said Reynolds, "I'll take good food when I can get it." "You, my man," he said, pointing at Cal, "You should be thankful," he said, nodding towards Gillian. "This woman here, she looks after you."

Gillian smiled and put a hand on Cal's arm. "I try Ben, but we all know how that goes," she said.

"I don't," interjected Loker, "but I'd sure like to know," he said, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

Cal shot him a warning glance as Ria's shoe collided with his shin. "Ow! Geez Torres. Lay off," he muttered. "Then mind your own business," she shot back under her breath.

Cal watched the whole scene unfold with amusement. And he couldn't be sure, but he thought he caught a slight blush from Gillian's direction. "I am thankful," he admitted. "I'd be a bloody mess without her, and I know it."

Torres smiled. That was one hell of an admission. And she hadn't missed Gillian's flushed face. Ria Torres was no fool. She couldn't be sure, but there was definitely something going on between her bosses. And in that case, she thought that they really ought to let them get on with their evening. She rose from the table, dragging Loker with her.

"Thanks for having us over, Dr. Lightman; Dr. Foster," she said.

"Yeah, I ought to get going too," agreed Reynolds.

"We're glad everyone could make it. Happy New Year to you all," said Gillian graciously.

"Yeah, see you lot Monday," said Cal.

Gillian raised her eyebrows in disapproval. She smiled, pointing to each end of her mouth, indicating that he should do the same.

"Oi, and bring your happy faces to work," he called after them, earning him a playful slap from Gillian.

"What?" he asked in mock innocence. "Was that not what I was supposed to say?"

"Would you guys stop flirting and get ready to go?" said Emily, rolling her eyes. "You know that there's no point in going if we're late, seeing as the boat will leave without us. And it would be nice to be early for once."

"Nah love, that'd be breakin' tradition. "We'd miss the fun of playin' 'Red Light Green Light' with the cops," said Cal.

A forty-five minute trip into Virginia later, and they were climbing aboard the _Evangeline, _a three-story commercial yacht. A live band was playing as they checked in and were shown to their cabin. Note that cabin here is not plural.

Cal had made these reservations months ago, before Gillian and Alec had even separated. The last thing he would have expected when he made those reservations was that Gillian would be spending New Year's Eve with him.

And so, he opened the door to their cabin, finding the two twin beds that characterized all of the cabins. They were designed to be pushed together to make a queen-sized bed for couples, but the space was obviously not meant for three. Noticing this, Gillian gave Cal an inquisitive stare. "Eh, we'll figure something out," he answered.

"I'm going to see about a rollaway bed. You girls go ahead and get ready."

Cal strolled along the lower deck, his mind wandering back to the first New Year's Eve they'd spent on the water.

_Emily couldn't have been more than six or seven. He'd taken her out to eat on the waterfront for a special New Year's Eve dinner. Zoe was out of town, working yet again. They'd just finished their dinner when Emily saw a party yacht sailing by. "Pretty lights," she said, pointing. "Can we see the pretty lights, Daddy?" Her took her hand, and they walked down to the dock, finding a smaller boat that was about to depart on a short tour of the Potomac. And on the whim of a child, they cruised around in the night air, just a father and his daughter. The next year, when Zoe was gone again, they made another trip to the waterfront, and a tradition came into being._

Cal returned to the cabin, unsuccessful in acquiring an extra bed. He knocked on the door, just in case they weren't quite finished dressing. Gillian answered the door, and he inhaled sharply upon seeing her. She was immaculate, in a teal cocktail dress, fitted to her waist and flowing outward down to her knees. It was very Gillian-esque—tasteful, but oh so appealing. She'd pulled her hair up, leaving a few soft curls down to frame her face. She looked absolutely exquisite.

"See something you like?" she teased, looking around the room. She met his eyes again, and he continued to stare. "Pick your jaw up off the floor Cal, I've got to go help Emily finish her hair." And with that, she was gone, curling iron in hand.

Cal followed her into the bathroom, where Emily stood waiting. Gillian had done a wonderful job with Emily as well. She wore the pretty mauve dress that Gillian had given her for Christmas, and she looked stunning.

"Well now," he joked, "I feel a bit underdressed."

"That can be fixed," said Gillian, winking at Emily. "Sure can," she agreed, pulling a teal and rose striped tie from her bag and handing it to Gillian.

"I am not wearing that," he said. "I don't do ties. Especially pink ones."

Gillian paid him no heed, and in one swift motion, she had wrapped it around his neck and began tying it with nimble fingers. "There," she said, as she finished, patting his chest lightly. "Look how handsome your father looks now, Emily," she said. "I think there's hope for him yet."

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An hour and a drink later, Cal sat at a table on the top deck, listening to the band play. Gillian and Emily were deep in conversation, and he suspected that it had something to do with the cute boy making eyes at his daughter. This was going to require another drink. He excused himself, and headed back to the bar.

Meanwhile, the young man Emily had her eye on took the opportunity to ask her to dance. She looked to Gillian, who nodded. "I'll deal with your father. Go have fun."

Gillian wandered over to the bar, intent on overseeing the number of drinks Cal ingested. As she approached, she noticed a blonde woman sitting next to him, clearly sending all the right signals. And as she studied his face, Gillian was relieved to see that he was not returning any of them. Still, she sidled up the bar, putting an arm around his waist and leaning in for a quick kiss. "Come on honey, we're going to lose our seats," she cooed, pulling Cal along with her.

He chuckled once they were out of earshot of the blonde. "Possessive are we?" he asked.

"Blondes don't suit you Cal. It's for your own good, you know," she replied, arms still encircling his waist. She felt him tense, and without looking, she knew what had caused it.

"Who the bloody hell is that with my daughter?" he asked angrily.

"A boy, Cal. Not a serial killer."

"Can't you see the way he's looking at her? You can tell exactly what he's thinking," Cal blustered.

And then, in a superb case of bad timing, the young man slid his hand just a little bit lower on Emily's back, prompting Cal to break free of Gillian's grasp and march purposefully across the dance floor. "Mind if I cut in?" he growled, daring him to refuse.

Gillian had to laugh at the look of pure terror on that boy's face. But she sobered up after seeing the look on Emily's. She wasn't happy at all. Emily caught her eye and shot Gillian a non-verbal cry for help. Gillian held up a finger that said, "Just a minute."

She waited, giving them a few moments, before she walked up to the father-daughter pair. "Mind if I cut in?" she asked sweetly, putting her arms around Cal's neck. He didn't protest, but leaned over her shoulder to address Emily. "Hey, you, stay in my sight, you hear?"

She didn't respond, but sat down at their table, shooting daggers with her eyes.

"Cal, was that really necessary?" she asked.

"She didn't even know the guy, and you and I both know what he was thinking," he muttered.

"Would you be thinking any of those same thoughts now?" she teased.

"A few," he admitted. "But there's much more to you than meets the eye."

Gillian's heart skipped a beat as the next song began playing. The final song that would play before the clock struck twelve. The song that Gillian had chosen in her mind to dance to at her wedding reception, should she ever marry again. How very fitting.

Cal gazed at her with such an intensity that she was sure that he could see straight into her soul.

_**The strands in your eyes, that color them wonderful**_

_**Stop me and steal my breath.**_

He took her hand, twirling her around and pulling her back into his chest.

_**Emeralds form mountains, that thrust towards the sky**_

_**Never revealing their depth.**_

They moved together, as comfortably as old lovers. Somewhere between the chorus and the second verse, they closed the space between them, arms holding each other close.

As the song began to draw to a close, Gillian laid her head on Cal's shoulder, savoring the closeness the dance provided.

_**I'll be your crying shoulder,  
I'll be love's suicide  
I'll be better when I'm older,  
I'll be the greatest fan of your life.**_

The song ended with a minute left to go until the New Year. They turned to face the big screen, joining Emily, to watch the famous ball in Times Square begin its annual descent.

_Thirty seconds._

_Twenty._

_Ten._

Everyone began the countdown.

_Nine._

_Eight._

_Seven._

_Six._

_Five._

_Four._

_Three._

_Two._

_One._

"Happy New Year!" came the announcer's voice, followed by cheering up and down the East Coast. The boat flashed a searchlight over the crowd as fireworks exploded in the air above them. The enthusiasm was contagious. Cal took Gillian by surprise, taking her face in his hands, and kissing her in a rare display of raw emotion.

Emily squealed in delight, hugging both of them tightly. "Finally!" She was practically jumping out of her skin with excitement. "Omigosh, I love you guys so much!" she exclaimed. "I'm so happy that you two—just—finally!" she stuttered.

Gillian was beaming, and even Cal couldn't suppress a smile. Emily looked from her dad to Gillian and back again. "Wait. This isn't the first time, is it?" she exclaimed. They both looked at her sheepishly. "You didn't tell me?" she asked incredulously.

"We decided to take things slow, Em. We had to be sure ourselves before we told you," explained Cal.

"Like this hasn't been in the making for years," Emily retorted. "You know what, I don't even care. I am too excited to be angry at you."

"That's kind of what I was counting on," admitted Cal, earning himself an eye-roll from his daughter.

"I somehow sense that you _weren't counting_ on trying to fit the three of us in one bed, huh Dad?" she smirked, knowing the question would make him squirm.

"Carry on like that Emily, and you'll be the one sleeping in the floor," he shot back, realizing the implications of his words too late.

"Does that mean you're going to sleep with Gillian then Dad?" she teased, knowing that she was making him incredibly uncomfortable.

"Shut it," he snapped, glaring at her, just barely able to hide the embarrassment he felt. "Let's figure this out then, shall we? he asked, trying to change the subject.

"Cal," Gillian interjected, "There's really no need for anyone to sleep on the floor. We can push the beds together and let Emily sleep in the middle."

It seemed to be an agreeable idea all around, and the three of them descended the stairs to the cabin, knowing that the New Year held indescribable promise for them all.

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Gillian awoke sometime in the night, sleepless once again. She got up and stood gazing out the window at the expanse of darkness before her. She sighed and checked the clock. 3:15 am. She made a quick trip to the bathroom, and started to climb back into the bed when she realized that Emily had rolled over into her spot.

She attempted to push Emily over, just a little bit so that she could squeeze in. Her efforts woke Cal, but unfortunately, not Emily. He grinned knowingly at her as she resigned herself to the inevitable, gingerly climbing between them. "Problem, love?" he asked.

"Not at all," she said, snuggling up into the warmth of his arms.

"Good night love."

"Good night Cal."

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**HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!**


	12. Finding Sophie

January 15th.

She'd had the date marked on her calendar since the day after Christmas. Gillian had called the adoption agency in Delaware the moment it opened following the holiday. The receptionist told her that the first appointment available was midway through January, and it had seemed like an eternity to wait. "_But now," _she thought, smiling, "_the day is finally here." _

She climbed out of bed, thankful she'd had the foresight to shower the night before, and opened her beautiful rosewood armoire to an ever-accumulating supply of her clothes.

A soft knock on the door momentarily distracted her from choosing an outfit. "Come in," she said, rifling through a drawer. She heard the door swing open and familiar footsteps falling ever closer to where she stood. She felt his strong arms wrap securely around her waist and the warmth of his breath on her neck as he nuzzled the soft skin along her jawline.

"Mornin' love."

She leaned back, relaxing into him, the nervous energy of the morning dissipating with his very presence. She could definitely get used to this. Turning to face him, she slid her arms up his chest and around his neck, tipping her face up to meet his kiss. She kissed him back fiercely, pouring all of her hopes and fears for the day into that moment.

Cal wasn't one to argue when Gillian was kissing him, especially when she kissed him like _that, _but he sensed her anxiety. One on hand, she was exuberant at the prospect of being reunited with her daughter, but at the same time, she had learned not to get her hopes up. She couldn't bear the thought of enduring yet another heartbreak. Gillian feared she might never recover.

"I'm coming with you," he whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Loker and Torres can handle a morning without us."

"I'll be alright Cal," she said. "You should stay, really."

She didn't mean a word of it. And he could tell. And she knew that he could tell. Her eyes shone with gratitude. "Help me decide what to wear?" she asked.

Grinning, he stretched out on her bed, propping himself up with his elbows. "Alright love, what've I got to choose from?" he asked.

She pulled out three blouses, white, blue, and purple. "I'm going to wear this black skirt with whichever top you choose. Oh, and this," she said, tossing him the silver locket he'd given her for Christmas.

He pretended to think for a moment, although he had known instantly that he would pick the blue. "Blue. You look nice in color."

She smiled. The blue was her favorite too. "Alright then, blue it is."

She raised her eyebrows at him.

"Oh, yeah, right—I'll just be going now," he said, clambering off the bed.

He had almost reached the doorway when she stopped him. "Cal," she called, "Wear that blue coat I got you for Christmas. And don't forget a tie."

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"Mrs. Foster?"

Cal and Gillian had been waiting for nearly an hour, so even the mispronunciation of Gillian's name was a welcome sound.

She looked up as a caseworker approached them. "Right this way ma'am."

Cal hesitated, unsure as to whether or not he should follow. The question was answered as Gillian took his hand, pulling him behind her.

They entered the office of L. Jameson, shook hands, and proceeded to sit down.

"Now, Mrs. Foster," she began. Gillian cringed. "Please call me Gillian."

"Alright, Gillian, our records indicate that you have expressed an interest in adopting a child. I assume you are aware of the eligibility requirements?"

Gillian nodded.

"Good. And you have the documentation?"

Gillian handed her a stack of papers, verifying her criminal history, income, and various other technicalities.

"We'll have to review this paperwork," she said, flipping through it, "but it looks as if we'll have no problem in helping you find the perfect child."

Gillian was taken aback. Wasn't she aware of the situation? "I am actually here to find one child, Ms. Jameson, a child by the name of Rose Keagan. " "_My Sophie," _she thought.

"Hmm, Rose Keagan….Rose Keagan," she muttered, rummaging through her file cabinet. "Ah hah," she exclaimed, pulling the file out and opening it. "Rose Keagan," she read, "Nearly two years old, currently residing in a foster home just outside of Dover."

"I'm sorry ma'am, but her case is pending adoption. A couple from New Jersey is expected to be approved after their homestudy is completed next month. But if you're looking for a little girl about her age, we have…"

"I'm not," Gillian interjected. "Rose Keagan was my daughter for 57 days. I bathed her and rocked her to sleep, built her a nursery, and called her Sophie. As I'm sure you're aware, the birth mother has sixty days to change her mind."

Realization dawned on the caseworker's face.

Seeing this understanding, Gillian continued. "I was so tantalizingly close to having my own child, my daughter, and all of that was taken from me in an instant. And now, I want her back." Gillian was unapologetic, a fierce gleam in her eyes.

It was obvious that the caseworker was a bit intimidated. "Let me speak with my supervisor. Just one moment please."

Cal took advantage of her brief absence, grabbing Gillian's hand and squeezing it reassuringly. He could feel the tension radiating from her. But there was also a quiet determination about her that told him that she'd be just fine.

The door opened, and Ms. Jameson walked back in. She sat down, meeting their expectant glares. "Normally, we would not consider anyone else for adoption after another family has passed the majority of requirements. However, due to the extenuating circumstances, we are willing to make an exception."

Gillian exhaled, visibly relieved.

"However, you are going to have to make a case, stating why you believe that it is in the best interest of the child to live with you. And frankly, as it stands, your appeal is unlikely to be approved."

"And why is that?" Gillian asked cordially, knowing only Cal could hear the venom in her voice.

"For one, you would be a single parent, and if I remember correctly, you reside in a temporary apartment. These are not usually damning factors, but in comparison to the New Jersey couple, you are at a significant disadvantage."

Capitalizing on Gillian's speechlessness, Cal jumped in. "I thought the situation was clear," he said, gesturing to Gillian and then to himself.

The caseworker shook her head, confused.

"Gillian here, and I," he began, hoping to God that he could pull this off. "We're getting married."

It was a good thing that Ms. Jameson was not an expert in microexpressions, because Gillian's face was a whirlwind of emotions. _Shock. Confusion. Understanding. Disbelief. Gratitude. Love._

Cal read them all, smiling in particular at the last one.

"Well," Ms. Jameson replied, "This certainly changes things. That is, _if _you'll be married before the adoption is finalized, _and _if you're planning to adopt jointly. How soon is the wedding?" she asked.

"Next month," Gillian answered, a little too quickly. "February 20th."

"Well, that certainly falls within our timeframe. Where will the homestudy be conducted?"

"My house," said Cal, putting an arm around Gillian. "Soon to be our house."

"Well, that puts you on more than equal footing with the New Jersey couple, especially considering that she once belonged to you. We'll contact you sometime next week to set up a homestudy, and you'll need to submit papers requesting to adopt jointly. Please call our office if you have any questions."

She stood up, shaking their hands once more. "It was nice to meet you both."

Gillian walked to the car in a daze, not sure of what had really happened in there. Had Cal really offered to marry her?

She heard his footsteps catching up to her, and turned to face him. "Cal," she said softly, "I really appreciate what you did in there, but it's not going to work. There are legalities. They're not just going to take our word for it."

Now it was his turn to be confused.

"Take our word for it?" he asked. Then he understood. "Gill, I'd love nothing more than to marry you, and if it helps you get your daughter back, I'll do it next month. Hell, I'll do it tomorrow."

She stood there speechless.

"That is, if you want," he added.

"You'd marry me, even if it didn't help me get Sophie back?" she asked.

"Gill, I've been ready to marry you for years. There's nothing I want more." He fumbled in his coat pocket, finding the locket that Gillian had told him to hold that very morning, and sunk down to one knee.

"The question now, love, is 'Will you marry me?'"

Gillian's self-control had reached its breaking point. She pulled him to his feet, cupping his face in her hands. Her lips found his, and her arms snaked around his shoulders. Cal laughed. "I'll take that as a yes?" he asked, putting the locket around her neck.

She buried her face in his chest.

"Yes. A million times yes."


	13. Whirlwind

The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, eventually permeating the barrier between sleep and consciousness. Gillian began stirring, stretching, only to find her hand intertwined with another. Her eyelids fluttered, finding Cal's amused smile. "_Of course he's already awake."_

The light from the window caught the sparkling diamond that now graced Gillian's left hand, sending thousands of tiny reflections dancing across the walls. She propped herself up on her elbows, peering groggily at the exquisite ring on her finger, remembering the previous day with indescribable joy.

She was engaged to love of her life, one Cal Lightman.

She pulled herself up onto his chest, leaning down to kiss the amusement from his lips. And it worked all too well. She noted sadly that they were both fully clothed—a situation that she was prepared to remedy. Although not for the reasons one might think.

She lifted herself off of his chest, and pulled the bottom of his t-shirt up, finding a small thin scar protruding from the fabric of his waistband. She looked at him questioningly, and when he didn't object, she pulled the top of his flannel pants down, just an inch or so, tracing the length of the scar with her finger.

"Appendix," he grunted.

She continued to study it, brushing her fingers over the scar and the skin around it. Her elbow grazed his thigh, and she felt him tense.

"Gill, love, it's probably not the best idea for you to go poking around down there, yeah?" he said, breathing a little heavier than before.

She blushed, realizing the effect she was having on him.

" Here," he said, turning on his side, accidently revealing a burn on his lower back. "Ask me about this one."

She gasped, ignoring the scar he was pointing to. "Oh my goodness Cal, what happened there?" she asked, putting her hand over the burn.

"Oh," he said, turning back over, "Didn't mean for you to see that one love."

"What happened?" she repeated.

He sighed. "Zoe."

"Zoe what?" she asked indignantly.

"It wasn't as a bad as it looks Gill."

"What did she do to you?" she half-growled.

"Eh, we had a fight. And she had a curling iron."

She inhaled sharply. "That bitch!"

He couldn't help but chuckle at her indignation. "Hey now love, it was a long time ago. And as happy as I am to have you on my side, I was under the impression that we had a lot to do today."

Gillian slumped back into his chest. "I don't want to think about it. There's so much to do!"

"Besides work, we've got to fill out all the adoption paperwork, sub-let my apartment, and move my things. Not to mention, we've only got a month to plan a wedding." She sighed.

The doorbell interrupted the silence.

"And we've got to tell Emily," he reminded her.

They heard a key turn in the lock.

"Cal!" she exclaimed. "Get out of here!" She jumped out of bed. "I don't want Emily to think we're sleepingtogether."

"Why not?" he asked. "That's what we were doing."

"No Cal," she said, pushing him out the door. "We weren't _sleeping _together _sleeping _together."

"Well," he grinned, "I happen to remember a lovely Christmas evening when we…"

"Shut your mouth, Cal Lightman!" she warned, not quite able to suppress a smile.

They'd done a lot of talking the previous night, and decided that they would continue to "take it slow," despite their impending marriage. Besides that, there was the fact that Gillian believed that some things should wait for marriage anyway, and Cal had the good sense to respect her wishes. It's not that they didn't want each other, because they truly did—and it was excruciating sometimes to hold back. But, both were accustomed to waiting, and they were willing to wait for that perfect moment in time where their union would be not only physical, but spiritual and eternal.

Gillian got dressed, and hurriedly made the bed. She tip-toed down the hallway, mussing the sheets on one side of Cal's bed for good measure. They were going to look guilty enough as it was.

She found Cal and Emily seated in the kitchen, and slipped her left hand in her pocket.

Emily brightened immediately. "Hey Gill!" She looked curiously at her father, but directed her question at Gillian. "Did you stay the night?" she asked incredulously.

Gillian began to mumble something, but Cal cut her off.

"Yeah she did," he answered, "And she'll be stayin' a lot more nights from here on out."

Emily gave him a confused look.

He nodded to Gillian, and she stretched out her left hand to take Emily's.

Emily screamed as her eyes found the ring on her finger. "For real?" she asked. "You're getting married!?!?!"

Cal smiled from ear to ear. "Is it safe to take my hands off my ears yet?" he asked, still grinning.

His question was answered as Emily let out another scream, practically tackling him in her exuberance. "Do you know how long I've been waiting for this?" she asked, turning to hug Gillian.

"You're going to be my step-mother!" she said excitedly.

"Mmhmm."

She took Emily's hands, and assumed a more serious stance.

"Emily," she began, "I have another request."

"Sure," she replied. "Anything."

"Be my Maid of Honor?"

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The three of them sat around the kitchen table for the next few hours, puzzling out the wedding details. They started with the guest list.

"I don't want a big wedding Cal. Just something small and intimate," said Gillian. "Julie can be a bridesmaid, and Emma and Ellie the flower girls."

" It's up to you love," he replied.

"Did you have anyone in mind to be your groomsmen Cal?" she asked.

"I dunno. I thought I might ask Reynolds."

"What about your friend Terry?" she asked. "Would you want him to come?"

He thought about it for a minute. "Yeah love, I think so. He's witnessed my darkest moments—he ought to see some of my better ones, yeah?

Gillian reached out and took his hand, squeezing it.

"What about the office staff?" Emily interjected. "Torres, Loker, and Heidi?"

They compiled a list of about forty people in total before Cal began swearing.

"This is bloody exhausting!" exclaimed Cal.

Emily and Gillian rolled their eyes at one another. "Cal, this is just the guest list."

"Yeah, and then there's the dress, the cake, and the venue, right? Speakin' o'which, where exactly are we getting married?

"Well," Gillian said, biting her lip, "I was thinking about the little church I grew up in. It's just outside of Alexandria. It's not too big, and it's out of the way. We wouldn't draw much attention there."

"What do you think?" she asked.

"I think a low-profile wedding is just the way to go," he agreed. "Right, so the dress and the cake, and it's in the bag, yeah?"

"Are you serious Dad?" Emily asked.

He looked puzzled.

"I think he is," Gillian answered. She turned towards him, stroking his face. "You're adorable when you don't have any idea what you're talking about."

She gave him a playful tap on the cheek before answering his question.

"Well Cal, we've got to book the church, find a wedding dress, and order a cake—that's all true, but there's also the…"

Emily cut her off. "The caterer, photographer, and florist…"

"Yes, and arrangements need to be made for the music, the rehearsal dinner, the reception, the rings, and the official paperwork," finished Gillian.

"And of course there's the bridal shower, the bachelor & bachelorette parties, the bridesmaids dresses, and the honeymoon accommodations," added Emily.

"Hmm…" said Cal, "What was that last one again? I liked the sound of that. Don't I get to plan the honeymoon?"

"Daaaddd! That's gross. I don't want to know anything." Emily wrinkled her nose. "No offense Gill," she added.

She laughed. "None taken."

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They spent the afternoon at Gillian's apartment, packing her things into boxes. Cal refused to help her box up her romance novels, telling her that they weren't allowed in his house. She simply laughed, countering with "It's _our _house now, _dear."_

Darkness had fallen, and everyone was exhausted. Cal and Gillian wound down on the couch with a glass of wine, and Emily picked out a movie. They'd decided to stay the night at Gillian's and get an early start the next morning.

Emily pulled out "Father of the Bride," and assumed her place on the couch next to Gillian.

Gillian loved being in the middle. She reclined back against the warmth of the man she loved, as Emily snuggled in closer to her. It had taken years to get to this moment, and she decided to treasure every moment of her newfound happiness.

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**I know this chapter was bit slow, but it was necessary. Next up, Gillian gets a huge surprise and the story takes quite a twist. As always, you guys decide how soon you want the next chapter. Please take a second to review!**


	14. The Perfect Dress

The last Saturday in January found an exasperated Gillian standing in the middle of a bridal shop. She'd tried on upwards of fifteen dresses, none of which seemed to fit both her body and her tastes. And there was the infuriating fact that she seemed to have put on a couple of extra pounds lately. Cal would say that perhaps the pudding was catching up with her.

Emily helped her unbutton the latest dress and slip out of its confines. "Gill," she said, sensing her frustration. "Why don't we go get something to eat, take a break?"

"That sounds fantastic, actually," Gillian agreed. "All of this shopping is making me hungry."

They walked down the street to a little café & bakery, stopping in briefly to grab a sandwich and some soup. And true to nature, they got a brownie to split. They took their food and sat down at a little table by the window.

Gillian rested her head on her hand, stirring her soup slowly. There was entirely too much to do in the next three weeks than could possibly be done in three months. She thought through her mental to-do list and decided instead to focus on what she had accomplished so far.

She and Cal had mailed the adoption paperwork first thing. They were in the process of moving the last of Gillian's belongings to Cal's house, and designing a nursery. Someone from the adoption agency was scheduled to come in two weeks to complete the home evaluation portion of the application, and the house was a royal mess of not-quite-unpacked boxes.

They'd ordered the cake, sent out invitations, planned the menu, picked flowers, booked a photographer, and selected their rings. It been an exhausting whirlwind of a week, and Gillian was overwhelmed. But it was a good sort of overwhelming. She knew it would be a crazy month, but at the end of it, she'd have a perfect wedding, a new home, and hopefully, two new daughters. Not to mention a honeymoon with the man she'd loved for so long.

Thank goodness that work had been relatively mild. They'd taken another IRS case, and a handled a few missing persons interrogations for the FBI. All simple, open and shut cases. She was especially thankful that Cal hadn't taken a notion to get himself involved in any more life-threatening situations recently. She wasn't quite sure how she was going to handle something like that when, _not if, _it happened again. She knew that there were inherent risks in their job, but she was going to insist that he stop taking the unnecessary ones. She didn't think she could go through that again.

They'd taken a drive down into Virginia to the little church that Gillian had grown up in. Belle View Baptist Church stood about three blocks inland from the Potomac River, on the edge of a small field. The sanctuary held about seventy-five people at capacity, and there was a comparably sized fellowship hall attached to it. Gillian couldn't believe that little old Pastor Gray was still the minister there. He'd been there as long as she could remember—watching her grow from a child to a teenager, and finally into womanhood. She felt a twinge of remorse when she considered how long she'd been gone. Not that it was far—in reality, it was a thirty minute drive from her apartment. She'd left the church briefly in college, and for good when she married Alec. He was never particularly religious, and he'd never felt comfortable there. She'd given up a lot of things when she married Alec, now that she considered it. What could she possibly have been thinking?

"Gill?" Emily's concerned voice interrupted her musings. "Are you feeling alright?" she asked. "You look a little pale."

"I'm okay honey," she replied, squeezing Emily's hand reassuringly. "I've just been a bit tired lately. There's been so much going on."

She sipped her coffee slowly, willing herself to find the energy to go back out into the cold air in search of a wedding dress. She would have liked to wear her mother's dress, but there's no way it would fit her. Her mother was a tiny woman, barely cresting five feet and never weighing more than 100 pounds. Her wedding dress would probably have been more appropriate for a child.

Emily's voice brought her back to reality again. She looked up to find Emily's eyes shining with excitement.

"I have an idea."

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Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at a little boutique called "The Rose Petal." Emily grasped Gillian's hand and dragged her inside. "This is the place where we bought the quilt for your bed, and the drapes in your window," Emily explained. "The whole shop has a sort of antique theme, centered around roses—kind of like your room."

Gillian looked around, impressed. Emily had her pegged—this was exactly her style. But she didn't see how this was going to help her find a wedding dress.

Seeing her confused look, Emily pulled her farther into the store. "When we were here last time, they had the prettiest vintage gowns in the back," she said. "I thought they might be something that you would like."

Gillian gasped when she saw it, hanging on the back wall. She couldn't explain it, but somehow she knew she'd found the perfect dress, even before she tried it on. It had wide lace straps and a sweetheart neckline. The fitted bodice was covered with ruched satin fabric, twisting down into a rose on the side, and the organza skirt tapered softly from the bodice to the floor. It was breathtaking.

Emily zipped her up, and the dress fit her like a glove. She turned in a circle, admiring the dress from all angles. Emily couldn't help but stare. "It's beautiful Gill—you're beautiful." A mischievous grin spread across her face. "You're going to give Dad a heart attack."

Gillian's characteristic blush rose to her cheeks as she made to step down from the mirrored platform. She tripped on the bottom edge of the dress, missing a step and plummeting from the dais. Emily put her arms out to catch her, but her momentum sent them both tumbling to the floor.

For a few seconds, neither of them moved. But soon, Emily groaned, raising herself off the floor and bending over an unresponsive Gillian.

"Gill," she called, nudging her shoulders. "Gill, are you alright?"

No response.

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**I hate to leave you all with such a cliffhanger, but please have mercy on me—it's after 3 am, and I just HAD to give you guys another chapter after the wonderful outpouring of reviews I received this morning. **

**I want to take a minute to thank everyone who has reviewed, especially those who have an encouraging word for nearly every chapter. A hearty thanks goes to Nr. Six, LilyLynn, Edwina B. Karch, Pol, and cj1013, who have been with me from the beginning. But also to Nonna Minerva, LittleMsGiggles, Viktorija, yennayers, crazy-hot, Luvdapup, Rugbygirrl, LightWoman, Kat's in the cradle, SassyCop, Franella, and ohcurliehair—thanks for consistently taking the time to leave me your thoughts. I appreciate it more than you know.**


	15. A Dose of Reality

Gillian Foster was _not _pregnant.

She stared at the small but clear minus sign in the test window. She hadn't truly expected to be pregnant, but it was disappointing nonetheless. "Devastating" was perhaps a better way to describe it.

"_But it all added up!" _she thought angrily. She'd been exhausted for days; continually hungry and bloated. It was now February, and she hadn't had a period since mid-December. The bout of dizziness that had sent her tumbling to the floor with Emily had made her suspicious, but it was the nausea and a sensitivity to smell following the incident that prompted her to take a pregnancy test.

Memories of her past failures began to flood her mind. She remembered taking test after test after test, all with the same result. She did everything the doctor told her to do, but it was never enough. After years of trying, she decided that she'd had enough heartbreak and resigned herself to the fact that she could not have children; resigned herself to the fact that she was defective—incapable of the most natural of processes.

Her eyes glistened, tears threatening to spill over at any moment. Cal knocked softly on the door, opening it cautiously when she didn't answer.

He found her sitting on the floor with her head in her hands, and sighed. So the test had been negative. He sat down next to her on the bathroom floor, pulling her gently into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and kissed the top of her head.

"Gill," he whispered. She looked up into his eyes for a split second before looking away. Cal read the shame and guilt on her face in an instant.

"Love, it's not your fault. It's out of your control."

She said nothing, sobbing quietly into his shoulder.

They sat like that, holding each other for nearly half an hour, Cal mumbling words of comfort as well as he was capable.

"Gill," he began, pulling back to look her in the face. "You already have Emily's heart, and most likely Sophie's. And you always have mine. We'll get through this, yeah?"

She gave him a weak smile. "Yeah, we will."

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They spent the remainder of the day painting the nursery a dark rose color—nearly the same as Gillian's bedroom.

Emily noticed that Gillian had been crying as she entered the room, but the look on her father's face convinced her not to pry. Instead, she walked across the room silently, gathering a frail-looking Gillian into her arms. Emily's display of affection brought Gillian's raging emotions back to the surface, and she began to cry again. Emily was alarmed and glared in her father's direction. "_What did he do to her?" _she thought. He could be so insensitive.

"Oh sweetie, I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to get emotional on you." She tried to regain her composure. "Really, I'm okay."

"You're not a very good liar Gill," Emily whispered.

Gillian looked at Cal, asking a silent question. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged as if to say "It's up to you."

Gillian decided, not for the first time, to be completely honest with Emily. She took her hands, holding them in her own, and motioned for Cal to come stand beside her. He obliged, walking over and putting an arm protectively around her shoulders.

Emily was really worried now. Her eyes flitted back and forth between the pair of them and she braced herself for whatever news they had to tell her.

"Emily," she began.

"Remember the day we went dress shopping last week?" she asked. "And you told me that I looked pale? And then I fell off the platform?"

Emily nodded. "_Of course she remembered. Where was Gillian going with this?"_

"Well, that and a few other things made me think that I might be pregnant," she said cautiously, waiting for Emily's reaction.

Emily looked stunned. "Pregnant? But how? Who?"

And suddenly she understood. "You and Dad?!?! You're sleeping together?!?!"

"Slept together," Gillian corrected. "Once."

She started to do the math in her head. "But that's not possible. It'd be too early to tell. Unless…" she stopped. "Unless you've been together longer than I thought."

Gillian looked down, biting her lip. "Christmas, actually."

"But that's not the point," Cal interjected.

Gillian smiled sadly. "No, you're right, it's not. According to the test, I'm not pregnant, and I'd gotten my hopes up. That's why I've been an emotional wreck all morning."

"_And" _Cal told her, "This doesn't change anything we've taught you. You'd bloody well not even think about having sex anytime soon unless you want a dead boyfriend, you hear?"

"Yeah, yeah Dad, I got it," she said dismissively. "I just can't believe that _that _was a possibility. Wow."

And then, as it sunk in, she spoke again. "I'm sorry, Gill."

Gillian nodded in acknowledgement, trying to keep herself from breaking down again. "Cal," she said softly. "Give us a minute?"

He grunted in affirmation and walked out, closing the door behind him.

"Emily," she said again, "I agree with your Dad on this one. And while I wouldn't exactly call that night a mistake, it's not something that I'm proud of. But you understand, Em, that your father and I have been good friends for almost a decade. We have a mutual trust in and respect for each other. And you know as well as I do, that we've loved each other forever. The timing was just never right for us."

She continued, a bit awkwardly. "And I do want you to know that we've made a commitment to abstain, um, _in that department _until we're married. It's just something that's worth the wait."

It was one of those uncomfortable moments that was unavoidable. Emily knew that Gillian needed to explain, but at the same time, she really didn't want any of the details. But she did appreciate her honesty and the way Gillian treated her like an adult. "Thanks Gill," she said quietly, "for not talking down to me."

Gillian nodded, handing Emily a paintbrush. "I'll go get your dad. He's probably off sulking."

And sure enough, she found him in her bedroom, tinkering with one of her lamps. "Bulb's burnt out, love." He crossed the room, studying her. "What was that conversation with Emily about?" he asked.

"I talked to her about sex—about waiting—about how we've chosen to wait. I didn't figure that would be a conversation that you'd like to be involved in."

Cal was visibly relieved. "She listens to you. You can get through to her in a way that I can't. Thanks for talking to her."

He brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. "You've had a hard day, love. Let me make it better, yeah?"

He leaned down, kissing her deeply. "Better?" he asked, smiling against her lips.

She smiled a genuine smile for the first time that day, taking his arms and wrapping them securely around her waist. She reached up, entwining her fingers in his hair and pulling him back to her. Her lips grazed the stubble along his jaw line, finding their way upwards to meet his.

"Exceptionally better."

**I'm not completely satisfied with this chapter, but I figured that you guys had waited long enough. Don't lose hope—there is still a twist or two to come, and I promise you'll like them. Please take a second to leave me your thoughts. Thanks!**


	16. Final Preparations

February 12th was a Friday.

Cal sat at his desk, thumbing through the folder he had just compiled of all the honeymoon arrangements. They'd stay the night in Alexandria, and catch a plane at Reagan National early the next morning. They'd have to switch planes in Montreal, and then it would be about a nine hour flight from there. It would be an exhausting trip, but completely worth the effort. He was going to show Gillian _his _London.

A knock on the door interrupted his musings.

Gillian Foster, lovely as ever, stood in the doorway. He subtly put aside the aforementioned file, and rose to greet her.

"Ready to go?" she asked.

"Yeah, love, just let me get a few things," he replied, gathering up a pile of paperwork from his desk, grabbing his coat and groping around for his keys.

They were ducking out of work a bit early for the day because their adoption home study was scheduled for 4:00 pm. The timing couldn't have been worse. Gillian had just moved all her things in, and the house was littered with pre-wedding supplies. They'd had to spend much of the past week cleaning, organizing, and stashing her belongings out of sight. Emily had come over the past couple of nights, and she was a great help. The girl seemed to have an innate talent for organizing in small spaces.

"I drove today, remember?" asked Gillian, dangling her car keys in front of him. She looked at him curiously. "You must have been concentrating pretty intently on something. What's got you all absent-minded today?" she asked.

He bit his lip, trying to decide what to tell her. "Well, love, I'm not going to try and lie to you and tell you it's nothing," he said cautiously, "But I will tell you that it's wedding-related, and I can't tell you about it."

"So it's a surprise?" she queried. "And you'd tell me if it were something to worry about, right?"

"Oh, it's nothing like that. It's a surprise yes, a very good surprise. Now stop asking me questions. I don't want you figuring it out, yeah?"

She eyed him suspiciously. "If you say so."

He slung an arm around her shoulders, leaning in to kiss her lightly. "I do."

She smiled, smacking his arm playfully. "Let's go home."

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Cal had never really realized exactly what he was getting into until now. All that was involved in adopting a child, that is. Not that marrying Gillian wasn't worth it, because it was entirely worth it, but _"Bloody hell," _he thought, "_This social worker is a nosy little prick." _

A balding little man with a clipboard sat on his couch, asking him God only knows how many questions about how he was parented, how safe his neighborhood is, and when the last time he volunteered his time helping children was. He played the part of doting fiancé as well as he was able, and judging by Gillian's approving expression, he wasn't doing too horribly. At least he had the life experience of raising a daughter, which seemed to help his case.

Speaking of which, Emily arrived after school, and had the social worker charmed almost as soon as she walked in the door. Mr. Jessup thought Emily was "absolutely delightful" and commended Cal for what appeared to be excellent parenting in raising "such a lovely daughter."

And then almost comically, Mr. Jessup's face grew serious. He addressed Emily. "How do you feel about your father's impending marriage, and the possibility of a new sister?" he asked. "Aren't you afraid that he won't have time for you anymore? That you'll have to spend Friday evenings babysitting? That he'll replace you with his new family?"

"Now wait just a minute," Cal began angrily.

Emily just rolled her eyes. "I've got this Dad," she said, holding up her hand to silence him. "Mr. Jessup," that's the most absurd thing I've ever heard in my life. My Dad and Gillian have been best friends for as long as I can remember. Gill has been like a second mother to me, and I cannot wait to be able to call her family. And I look forward to meeting my little sister, who I will babysit anytime, because I will love her. The _four_ of us will be a family, Mr. Jessup. I have no doubts about that."

"Well said, young lady," he replied, making a note on his clipboard. "Just had to make sure."

"Now," he continued. If you could show me that safety measures you've put in place, I'll be out of your hair."

Cal and Gillian pointed out the rubber edges they'd fastened to the sharp corners of the tables, the baby gates and child-proofing on cabinets and doors. They showed him the nursery, the smoke alarms, and the security system.

"Well, that's it for today," he said. "We'll review the results of your home study and schedule a final joint interview about three weeks from now. Our office will call you within three business days to set something up."

He turned, stepping jauntily down the front walk, as if he were a much more important man.

"Guy's got a bit of a Napoleon complex, he does," Cal remarked.

Gillian chuckled. "Be careful Cal, that's psychology. Wouldn't want you to get dragged into my world of psychobabble-speak. That's dangerous territory."

"Actually love," dangerous territory is what we'll be in if we're not at the airport when you sister gets here. Flight's due in an hour," he said, pointing to his watch.

Julie was flying in for the bridal shower tomorrow. She and Emily had spent hours planning the shower over the phone, and were going shopping in the morning for supplies.

Gillian grabbed his wrist, bending it toward her so that she could see for herself. They were going to have to hurry. She picked up the printout of Julie's flight information, and pulling Cal behind her, headed for the door.

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Their timing was impeccable. No sooner had they located the correct gate than they spotted her, descending the escalator, her light auburn hair bouncing in time with the perpetual spring in her step. She was toting bright purple luggage, scanning the crowd for them. Her smile grew to nearly three times its normal size as she spotted the trio standing off to her right.

"Gilly!" she exclaimed, rushing forward, arms outstretched. Gillian met her embrace with the same enthusiasm, happy that her sister was finally here. It had been nearly six years since Julie had made the trip, seeing as it was difficult to coordinate with five children.

Julie turned to hug Emily, openly marveling at how much she'd grown. "The last time I saw you," she said, "you were graduating from elementary school." Emily laughed. "I remember. You brought David and Phoebe with you. They were so tiny."

"And you," continued Julie, turning to Cal, eyebrows raised in mock seriousness. Of course, Julie was rarely ever serious and failed miserably, cracking a smile. "It's about time, Cal Lightman. I thought you were going to let my sister die alone."

"Julie!" exclaimed Gillian, swatting her shoulder.

"Gill," she said, exasperated. "It's been painfully obvious that you've loved each other for nearly as long as I've known you." Emily nodded her head vigorously in agreement. "And besides," she continued, grinning mischievously, you had a particularly vivid dream the last time I was here. As I remember it, the name 'Cal' was mentioned quite a few times."

Gillian turned a deep shade of red as Cal let out an amused chuckle. "Dreamin' about me, eh love?" She flushed darker. "Julia Beth St. Claire," she whispered menacingly, "I cannot believe you just said that. If I weren't so happy to see you, you'd be in serious trouble."

Emily cleared her throat noisily. "We should probably get going," she said. "I'm sure Julie's tired after her flight up here."

Cal smiled at the suggestion. If Julie was tired, she was never one to show it. Gillian was the one who looked a bit peaked, he noted, attributing it to the stress of everything that was going on.

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It was getting late, and Gillian was exhausted. She slipped into her nightgown and padded down the hallway to Cal's room to say goodnight. She knocked softly and opened the door. Cal sat on the bed, glasses askew, obviously deep in thought, as evidenced by the upside-down book in his hand.

"You're awfully cute in your glasses Cal," she teased, waking him from his reverie.

"Not exactly what I was going for, but I'll take it," he replied, looking up at Gillian as she approached him. She sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning down to kiss him softly. "You alright, love?" he asked. "You look worn out."

"I'm just tired Cal," she answered, absentmindedly running her fingers over his bare skin. "There's so much to get done."

She bent forward, laying her head on his chest. "I can't wait until it's just you and me," she whispered. Cal smiled, rubbing little circles on her shoulders.

"Eight more days, love," he said softly, "and then forever."

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**I'm going to apologize, briefly but profusely, for putting this story on hiatus for so long. We've been dealing with a family illness, and that, coupled with the rigors of med school have not been conducive to writing. The story is back on, and I anticipate updating about once a week. Thanks everyone for your support, and please take a couple seconds to review! **


	17. A Deafening Silence

The day started off well enough. Gillian awoke, nestled in the crook of Cal's arm. And although she was not about to complain, she couldn't help but wonder how she'd gotten there. The last thing she remembered was going to say goodnight to Cal, and could only surmise that she'd fallen asleep in his bed. That also explained why there was light coming in through the blinds already. She always seemed to sleep better when she was with Cal.

She turned her head up to face him as he smiled down at her. "Mornin' love," he whispered. "Decided to let ya sleep in a bit, seein' as you've been so busy lately. Julie and Em ran to the store. They'll be back soon."

Gillian groaned. "Those two are going to come back with a car full of decorations. They're going to turn the house into a mess of balloons and paper maché. You know that, right?"

Cal grinned. "Let them have their fun. And try to have some yourself, yeah?"

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Gillian's prediction turned out to be entirely correct. By the time Julie and Emily had finished "decorating" for the party, the house was nearly unrecognizable. There were streamers everywhere—adorning the doorways, the ceiling, and the chandelier. And balloons—Gillian couldn't ever remember seeing that many balloons in one place, ever. There was a cake, fruit trays, finger foods, and cupcakes, and the doorbell rang almost constantly.

Gillian was much more popular than she could have imagined, although Cal didn't seem surprised at the number of people who showed up. She'd had a wonderful time, and was incredibly thankful for the outpouring of support, but as she looked around, she had a new concern. What in the world was she going to do with all this _stuff_?

They'd scored everything from blenders to waffle makers to linens, managing somehow to end up with three crock pots. However, Gillian's favorite had to be the chocolate fountain, a gift from the ever-perceptive Ria Torres. She made a mental note to set it up right away.

When the last guest finally departed, Gillian made a mad dash for her keys. "Cal," she called, "I'm going to run to the store to get some—"

"—chocolate," he finished. "And probably some marshmallows, too."

She looked at him, slightly dumbfounded.

"I saw the way you were eying that chocolate fountain," he teased. "In fact," he began, scratching his head thoughtfully, "I think you may love that chocolate fountain more than you love me." He stuck out his bottom lip.

She rolled her eyes and turned to walk out the door when a new thought occurred to her. She turned, smiling seductively. "Don't hate the chocolate Cal," she purred. "It could make for a very interesting honeymoon."

Cal would never think about chocolate the same way again.

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He was still smiling when he dialed her up fifteen minutes later.

"Yeah love, would ya mind picking up some strawberries? They're Emily's favorite." She mumbled something intelligible on the other end of the line. "Do we have what?" he asked. Gillian repeated herself. "Oh, whipped cream. I dunno love, but I'll look. He ambled over to the refrigerator and opened the door.

He started to reply when he heard something in the background that made his heart stop. Gillian gasped, letting out a fearful cry. He heard the unmistakable sound of screeching brakes and the shriek of twisting metal.

And then there was nothing but silence.

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Gillian was vaguely away of a pair of hands lifting her into the sunlight. She groggily registered a crowd of people surrounding her, and attempted to wave them away, confused. Her hand made contact with a paramedic's face, and the next thing she knew, she couldn't lift her arms. She was trapped. Adrenaline surged through her veins, and she began to fight her captors, tugging at the restraints, and flailing wildly about.

All of a sudden she began to feel woozy. They'd poisoned her, she was sure of it. She began to relax, despite the terror in her mind. And then she heard his voice, frantic and filled with fear and desperation. "Oi, you, get the hell out of my way," he growled, pushing aside a police officer. "That's my wife over there." Two officers quickly restrained him. "Gillian!" he screamed. "Gill!"

"Cal?" she called back softly, losing consciousness. The attending paramedic looked in the direction she was pointing and saw Cal, still struggling against the officers. "It's all right," he called. "She knows him." The officers reluctantly released him, and Cal ran to her side.

"Gill," he murmured, taking her hand. "S'alright now love. It's me, Cal."

Gillian's world was rapidly fading into blackness, but she managed to squeeze his hand, albeit weakly. The darkness crept closer, and though she could no longer make out his face, she could hear him whispering to her, and in that instant, she knew that everything would be okay.

Cal was by her side, and that's all that mattered.

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**So I had a little extra time this weekend and decided not to make you guys wait a whole week for the next chapter. I may find a little extra time tomorrow as well if I'm properly motivated. *Hint hint***

**~AW**


	18. This Will Change Our Lives Forever

Happy Birthday Franella! In honor of you, may I present a short but exciting chapter in our continuing Callian saga. I hope you have a wonderful day!!!

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A concussion. That was the official diagnosis.

Gillian was bruised, shaken, and feeling a bit lightheaded, but luckily, suffered no major injuries. However, she'd hit her head pretty hard against the car's steel frame, and had stayed overnight at the hospital, just to be sure there was no lasting damage. She was definitely sore, and Cal had been wonderful about making sure she was comfortable during the night. He'd eventually fallen asleep in the chair next to her bed, his head resting beside her.

"Cal," came a soft whisper. "Cal!" She called his name again, this time more loudly. He stirred groggily and looked up at her, lifting his head from the side of her hospital bed. "Need something love?" he asked, his brows furrowed in concern.

"Actually Cal," she began, "I was wondering if I could have my hand back. The nurse is bringing me pudding." She grinned at him.

And sure enough, her right hand was inextricably intertwined with both of his. He took her hand and lifted it to his lips, planting a gentle kiss in the center of her palm. "Happy Valentine's Day, love."

"Cal," she admonished, "don't look so somber." She lifted his chin up to meet her eyes. "Any day that begins with kisses and pudding is bound to be a great day."

She had no sooner finished speaking than Julie and Emily came bouncing into the room. They were two of a kind really, and when you got them both together, they were inseparable. "You're awake!" exclaimed Emily, clasping her hand. Julie bent over to kiss her forehead. "How are you feeling Gilly?"

"I'm fine, really," she replied. They looked at her suspiciously. "Well, alright, I'm a little sore, but it could have been so much worse," she finished. "And see now," she explained, "here comes the nurse with my pudding." She smiled broadly. "Chocolate."

"Now we're just waiting on the doctor's report, right?" asked Julie.

Gillian nodded. "She was supposed to be here an hour ago, so I'm expecting her anytime."

"Blimey Gill, how long have you been awake?" Cal asked.

She shrugged. "Couple of hours."

"You've just been watching me sleep then?" he queried.

"Not quite," she replied, mouth full of pudding. Gillian pointed at the TV.

Cal, Emily, and Julie all rolled their eyes at the same time. Leave it to Gillian to find a showing of "Titanic" in a hospital room.

"You can turn the channel now anyway," Gillian mumbled, "I don't care to see poor Jack die again. I never understood what that movie couldn't have had a happy ending, at least for Jack and Rose."

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The doctor arrived fifteen minutes later, breathless. "Sorry to be so late, but we're short-staffed today. I'm Dr. Camden." She shook hands with Gillian and began to review her file. "Alright, Mrs. Foster is it?"

Gillian shook her head. "Please just call me Gillian."

"Alright Gillian, you've been under observation since a car accident yesterday, is that correct?"

She nodded.

"And you suffered a concussion and some minor bruising, which seem to have healed well, but you'll need to take it easy for a few days."

Dr. Camden paused, as if contemplating how to proceed.

"Gillian," she said hesitantly, "there is another vital piece of information that we found, but it's of a sensitive nature." She gestured to Cal, Julie, and Emily. "Perhaps we could speak in private?"

"That won't be necessary doctor. These are the three most important people in my life, and you can speak freely in front of them," replied Gillian.

Cal put an arm around her shoulders, and Julie and Emily each took one of her hands. Cal was busy trying to get a feel for what the doctor's news would be. He could tell that it wasn't anything life threatening, but couldn't quite pinpoint the problem. He pulled Gillian a little closer, feeling uneasy.

"Okay then, Mrs. Fos—Gillian, you may find this particular test result to be a little strange, but given your records, we checked our findings three times, and what we found is indisputable."

Gillian let out a little gasp. _It couldn't be._

_Could it?_

"Congratulations Gillian, you're pregnant."

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**:D :D :D Almost time for the wedding! But don't forget about Sophie either! And what exactly happened in that car wreck? **


	19. Oh baby!

Gillian was momentarily speechless.

She regained her composure and started to speak. "Excuse me doctor, what?"

Dr. Camden smiled. "You heard me correctly Gillian, and like I said, we ran the results multiple times to confirm. And knowing your history, the nurses put this together for you.

She handed Gillian the framed test results and a pregnancy diary. "Our preliminary findings place you between the 8th and 10th week of pregnancy. If you can provide the date of your last menstrual period, we can estimate the date of conception and provide a more accurate due date."

Gillian flushed. "Christmas," she mumbled.

"Your last menstrual period ended on December 25th?" she asked, making a note on her clipboard.

"No," Gillian clarified. "Conception."

Dr. Camden frowned. "It's very difficult to pinpoint the exact sexual encounter that led to conception. It's possible that—"

Gillian cut her off, cheeks flushing even darker. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Christmas Day was the only "sexual encounter" I've had in over a year. So you see doctor, I'm quite sure that's when it happened."

"Duly noted. I'll be right back with your due date and some prescriptions."

As soon as Dr. Camden exited the room, Gillian was bombarded with excited chatter and joyful hugs. Emily squealed, bouncing excitedly on her toes. "I knew it! I just knew it!"

Julie looked from Gillian to Cal and back, eyebrows raised. "How did this manage to escape my attention, Gill?"

She smiled sheepishly. "I was going to tell you Jules, I promise. But you just got here, there was the shower, and the car wreck, and now," she paused. "Well, now you know."

Julie shot her a dramatic wink, "I expect details later."

Cal gave a little snort.

"Congratulations you two," she said, giving Gillian a hug. "Emily and I are going to go walk the hallways until we decide that you two have had enough time to celebrate in private."

"Always appreciate your candor," laughed Cal.

Julie and Emily left, whispering excitedly. Cal and Gillian sat in silence for a moment, hands clasped.

Finally, Gillian spoke. "Penny for your thoughts? Your microexpressions are changing so fast that I can't keep up."

"I'm still in shock," he admitted. "I'm actually kind of excited to be a father again. I knew I would be with Sophie, but I never imagined that I could give you a child of your own."

"Cal, it's because of you that I have all three."

When he looked confused, she explained. "Emily, Sophie, and this baby."

She took his hand and laid it over her stomach.

"Cal Lightman, have I told you that I love you today?"

"Don't believe so love," he answered, scratching his chin comically.

She leaned up and kissed him softly.

"Well then Cal, I love you, and I can't wait to marry you."

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A few moments later, Dr. Camden re-entered the room. "Gillian, you're nine weeks and two days pregnant, and your due date is September 17th. I've consulted with some other OB-GYNs, and we'd like to go ahead and do an ultrasound today, given your history. We'd just like to make sure the baby is developing properly. You may be able to hear your baby's heart beat as well.

Cal squeezed her hand. "Sure," Gillian replied.

They wheeled her into the lab, and asked a series of questions about any pregnancy symptoms she may have been having.

"Have you been gaining any weight?" asked Dr. Camden, as the nurse measured around her stomach.

"Yes," Gillian admitted. "About 7 pounds. It was the most frustrating thing too, when I couldn't lose it. I guess I know why now."

"And you've been eating normally?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yes…" answered Gillian, a little hesitantly. "Why?"

"Well, that's a little more than normal for this stage of the pregnancy, especially considering that you're a first time mother. It could indicate that you're farther along than you thought, but considering that you only have one possible date of conception, that's fairly impossible. It could also indicate the presence of multiple fetuses." Hearing Gillian's gasp, she continued. "But it could be that your weight gain is just a bit higher than normal. And that's nothing to worry about."

"Excuse me doctor," said the technician, "I think there's something here that you're going to want to see."

She turned and squinted at the screen. "Mmhmm, right there. I see it too."

"What is it?" asked Gillian, beginning to worry.

Dr. Camden smiled. "Perhaps I should just let you hear it." She turned the volume up on the machine.

Gillian could hear the quick flutter of her baby's heartbeat. But then, there was another sound. Another sort of buzzing sound, with a distinct pattern to it.

"Is that what I think it is?" Gillian asked, her eyes growing wide.

"Well, that depends on whether or not you were thinking that those sounds are two distinct heartbeats."

"You're having twins."

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**Is this getting crazy or what? Next up, Cal and Gillian get married!!!**


	20. Presenting the Lightmans

Two lives, two hearts

Joined together in friendship,

United forever in love.

It is with joy that we,

Gillian Claire Foster

and

Callum Jasper Lightman

Invite you to share in a celebration of love

As we exchange our marriage vows

Saturday the twentieth of February

Two thousand ten

Seven o'clock in the evening

Belle View Baptist Church

Belle View, VA

Loker did a double take at a copy of the wedding invitation. "Dude, your middle name is Jasper?" he asked incredulously. "Callum Jasper Lightman," he repeated slowly. "Were your parents on something?"

"Oi Loker, do us all a favor and shut the hell up, yeah?" Cal retorted. "And not that it's any of your business, but my great-uncle's name was Jasper." He scratched his head thoughtfully. "He also wore an uncanny number of purple scarves. Interesting bloke, he was."

"Cal, get your head on straight. It's your wedding day." His old friend Terry clapped him on the back.

Reynolds chimed in. "Yeah man, there's a beautiful woman out there that, for some reason, loves you. Don't you dare disappoint her."

Emily slipped in the dressing room, hands over her eyes. "It's 6:30. Everybody better be decent." Hearing no affirmations to the contrary, she removed her hand. "It's time to start seating the guests. You guys had better get out there or Gill will come hunt you down."

The three groomsmen shuffled meekly out of the room, leaving Emily and her father. "Help me with this tie, love?" he asked. She strode across the floor, and as she walked, Cal noted what a beautiful young woman she was growing up to be. She was dressed in a gold-colored floor length gown, trimmed with lace and a rose sash. Her hair was pinned in an exquisite updo, a few loose curls framing her face, and one single rose was intricately woven into the design.

Emily pulled his tie neatly into place, picking a piece of lint off his collar, and rested her hand on his shoulder. "I'm so proud of you Dad," she said. "This has got to be, like, the best decision you've ever made," she teased.

He pretended to look offended, but failed miserably, instead kissing her lightly on the forehead. "Thanks love. Now, off you go—make sure Gill has everything she needs."

"Alright Dad," she agreed, squeezing his hand. "I'll see you down front."

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Back in the bride's changing rooms, Gillian was fidgeting nervously. With fifteen minutes left until her walk down the aisle, she had nothing to do but pace. Her hair was twisted into an updo of curls that was partially covered by a sheer veil. And although she wasn't able to wear her mother's dress, she wore an old pair of her earrings that went perfectly with the vintage style of her dress.

A few minutes later, a knock on the door announced the entrance of her father, who took her hand and led her to the back of the church. Her bridesmaids stood ready, waiting for the music to change and the doors to open. Ria would walk through first and stand on the far side of the church. Julie would follow, and finally Emily. The former two were dressed in rose-colored dresses with gold sashes, and Emily's dress was just the opposite, marking her as the Maid of Honor. Her little nieces, Emma and Ellie would precede her, strewing white rose petals across the path to the front of the church.

She rehearsed the steps in her mind, praying that everything would go according to plan. It didn't help that her heart was beating a million miles an hour, or that she felt as giddy and nervous as a teenage girl. "Get a grip Gillian," she told herself. Her father squeezed her hand reassuringly.

The doors opened once and Torres began a slow descent down the aisle, followed shortly by Julie. Emily turned and kissed her cheek, before she too was gone.

The music changed, and the bridal march began to play. Through the door, Gillan saw the swell of the entire congregation as they rose to their feet. She bent over, ushering her two tiny nieces towards the door, where their older sister directed them out into the crowd. Emma was all precision, daintily placing each flower petal on the floor before continuing on. Ellie however, got a little too excited, skipping down the aisle and spilling her basket. The congregation began to chuckle, appreciating the innocent efforts of the little girls. Ever the cutie, Emma retraced her steps, stopping to help her twin pick up her petals, before they continued down to the front, hand in hand.

It was all Gillian needed to calm her nerves. She let out an amused peal of laughter as everything fell into perspective. The little nuances of the wedding shouldn't worry her. Nothing could ruin this day. She was about to marry the man she'd loved for, well, forever, if she was truly honest with herself. She'd felt an instant connection, and a deep sense of love for this man, even from their first meeting. Though she barely knew him, she cared enough to save him from himself. And she wasn't fooling herself, thinking that their lives would always be free and untroubled—she knew better. But loving Cal Lightman wasn't something she could stop herself from doing. And she'd be there through the good times and bad, just as always.

The church doors finally opened fully, revealing the object of her musings-that incredibly frustrating, yet loveable rogue that she was about to promise her forever to. The church was beautifully decorated in Gillian's carefully selected color scheme of ivory, rose, and gold. The bouquets were tied with lace ribbons, adorning each windowsill and the edge of the choir loft. A single candle on a tall stand graced the middle of the altar, and what seemed like hundreds more were carefully placed along the front of the church.

But the decorations, though lovely, were not Gillian's focus. Her eyes alighted on an even lovelier sight, the man who was indeed, the innermost desire of her heart. On her right, her father began to move, and suddenly she felt the desire to bound down the aisle into Cal's arms—their pace began to seem glacial in comparison. The people on either side of her were but a blur. She vaguely remembered passing her family, and not a moment too soon, she found herself facing the altar. Tears glistened at the corner of her eyes, and perhaps she imagined it, but it looked as though Cal was tearing up too.

She registered Pastor Gray welcoming the guests, and reading a passage of scripture. "Who gives this woman to this man?" he asked. Gillian's father responded—"Her mother and I." He kissed her forehead, and she stepped forward, taking Cal's hand in her own.

Cal felt Gillian's soft hand slip into his own, and he squeezed it reassuringly. He felt a sense of inner peace—a rare thing for him, and knew, just _knew,_ that in this moment, he was making the best decision of his life. He loved this woman beyond words, but knew he was going to have to speak soon, as they were approaching the point in the ceremony where he would read his vows.

"I, Cal, take you, Gillian, to be my wife. I promise to love, cherish, and respect you. I promise to be honest with you, no matter the circumstances, and put you first in all areas of my life. His voice broke, very nearly becoming a whisper. Gill, you're my best friend. You've been through every possible catastrophe in my life, standing with me, by my side. You're my rock—and the happiest moments of my life have been spent with you. I can't promise you that I'll be the perfect man Gillian, but you are the best, most perfect reason to try. I love you more than I could ever express, darling, and I can't believe that I'm lucky enough to get to spend the rest of my life with you."

It took Gillian a moment to collect herself before she could reply. Cal had just improv'd the most beautiful words she'd ever heard him say. Dabbing the tears from her eyes, she began to speak.

"Cal," she said smiling, reaching up to caress his face. "Cal, I've loved you since the day we met. I couldn't define what I felt for you then, but now I recognize it for what it was, and still is. You're my partner, and I trust you with my life—and more importantly, my heart. I wouldn't trade anything for your friendship, your trust, or your love. I promise to confide in you and be your confidant. I promise to cherish every moment of our lives together, and love you on the near and far side of heaven. You make happier than chocolate pudding," she laughed through her tears, "and I can't wait to start building a life and family with you."

They exchanged rings, looking expectantly at Pastor Gray.

"In all my years as a pastor," he began, "I don't think I've seen a couple so obviously suited for each other. Every lasting relationship is built on a solid friendship, and your love for each other has only strengthened the bond you share." He addressed the congregation. "What God has brought together, let no man put asunder."

He turned again to the couple before him, smiling. "You may now kiss—"

Cal didn't wait.

Gillian felt his lips on hers, responding with as much passion as the setting would allow. She put her head on his shoulder, pulling him close as the congregation clapped. She let her lips linger on his ear, whispering softly. "I love you Cal Lightman."

They turned to face everyone as Pastor Gray began to speak again. "May I present, for the first time, Cal & Gillian Lightman."

The crowd cheered, and Gilian took his hand, practically dancing back up the aisle on the way to the door. Once through, they shared a private moment outside. They simply held each other, and there was no need for words.

Today they had promised each other forever. And somehow they both knew that this is where they would end up—where they were meant to be.

And nothing had ever seemed more perfect.


End file.
